


THE BLACKBIRD AND THE MULTIFARIOUS QUILL - aka Letters of Introduction

by sfmpco



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anger, Angst, Emails, F/M, Love, Love Letters, Lust, Mycroft (discussed), Sherlock's parents (discussed), Sherlolly - Freeform, Writing Exercise, Young Sherlock (discussed), long form letter writing, parentlock (discussion), sex (discussed)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 26,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfmpco/pseuds/sfmpco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly are required to write each other daily letters for a month as a pre-marital exercise to better open up their communication.  They will primarily use email interspersed with long-form hand-written letters.  What is revealed may be more than they bargained for, and what happens could never have been predicted by either.</p><p>Inspired by "Letters Live" and written in epistolary style. </p><p>Note:  Chapter numbers do not correspond with how many days they are into the assignment.</p><p>This should be read after THE BLACKBIRD AND THE SPARROW'S NEST</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**DAY 1**

Molly,

I don't understand the point of this. I know you. You know me. Why are we doing this again?

SH


	2. Day 1 (Cont'd)

**DAY 1**

Dear Sherlock,

We are doing this exercise so that we can get to know each other better. So I'm trying to think of things to tell you that you don't know and won't bore you.

I had my appendix out when I was nine, but you've seen my scar. Did I tell you it was on Good Friday? I was gutted that they wouldn't let me eat my Easter candy when I was in hospital.

Letter writing is a lost art form, I think. I'm no good at it. Sorry.

Love you,

Molly


	3. Day 1 (Cont'd)

** DAY 1 (Cont'd) **

Molly,

This is going to be ghastly. Couldn't we text instead?

SH


	4. Day 1 (Cont'd)

** DAY 1 (Cont'd) **

Dear Sherlock,

I'm not entirely certain we're even supposed to be emailing.  Should we be hand-writing these letters?  That would take too long to exchange correspondence, but I might write you a real letter or two if I have time.  I need to buy stamps.

Let's just try to do this, okay?  So tell me a story about yourself.  Something from your childhood, maybe?  You never talk about it.

Love,

Molly


	5. Day 2

**DAY 2**

Molly,

What do you want me to tell you about my childhood that my mother hasn’t already mentioned?  She can sometimes be a gossip.  It was ordinary, bland, school, tests and all that.  Mycroft was away at boarding school, and I only saw him on holidays and sometimes in the summer if he wasn’t participating in some over-achiever’s program.  We were always in two different worlds.  Basically each of us were reared as if we were only children, but you know that.  I’m sure I’ve mentioned it or mummy has.

Is our counselor actually checking our work?  If so, delete what I wrote yesterday. What if we have to read them out loud to each other?  No.

Might need to use the labs later.

SH


	6. Day 2 (Cont'd)

** DAY 2 (Cont'd) **

Dear Sherlock,

That’s not what I meant.  I mean, tell me a story from your childhood.  Something that you’ve never told me before.  Maybe some vacation you took, or some little incident, what you did on your Christmas holidays, visiting relatives, that sort of thing.  I think we’re supposed to use these letters as an opportunity to open up to each other and discuss things.

And I’m just curious about something.  Why don’t you ever start your emails with “Dear Molly” and end them with “Love, Sherlock”?  This isn’t texting, but even in your texts you never even say XOXO, like you’re afraid your brother is reading your texts or you’re embarrassed to say it.  Of course he might be reading them, but why would you be embarrassed if he read that?  He has known we’re a couple for months, so why don’t you do it?  Maybe we should write some really mushy, sentimental texts and discourage him from reading them altogether.  Something juicy and explicit.  Of course, he’s probably monitoring these emails too, so maybe we should say something really embarrassing here too.

(Mycroft, if you’re reading this, I really do care about you as my future brother-in-law, but please stop invading our privacy.)

If you’re coming over tonight, could you bring some Pad Thai with extra shrimp?  I’ve got a new documentary on MRSA. We can watch it tonight.  You’ll love it. Or we can watch CSI, but you have to promise not to tell me how it ends before the end (bad habit!).

I get off work at 7:00 and will be home by 7:30.  See you around then.

Love you,

Molly

PS. Did you know that if you put the initials of your name together you get WSSH – like whoosh or whissh.  Too funny.


	7. Day 3

**DAY 3**

Dear dearest darling sweetheart, love of my life, my everything and all Molly,

Is that better? Pick one and I’ll use it.

Why don’t you ever sign off with “I love you” instead of just “love you” as if you don’t want to put the “I” in it? As for the XOXO shorthand, I’ve never liked it.  It’s rubbish.

Sorry if I spoiled CSI again for you last night.  It was obvious within the first two minutes where it was going and after that it was boring. I’d rather watch the mating habits of the dung beetle or read the latest research paper on dental caries than watch crime telly.

Our counselor is an idiot.

SH

PS. Delighted you find WSSH humorous. I don’t.


	8. Day 3 (Cont'd)

**DAY 3 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

Why does it have to be a chore for you?  I’m not picking my own greeting for you. You pick one because you mean it.  Don’t be such a git.  And stop being so petty just because you don’t like this assignment.  There are a lot more difficult things we have to discuss in the coming months, so suck it up, buttercup, and move forward.

In the future we won’t watch crime telly.  Maybe we just won’t watch any telly because you’re so critical all the time anyhow.  Sorry, but it’s bloody annoying.  I love you anyhow, but it is.

Could you at least try to take this assignment seriously?  What’s it going to be like when we have to discuss finances, or where we’ll live, or disciplining children, wills, or even that question of what if one of us becomes physically incapacitated and the other is left with the burden of care?  And no, I won’t pull the plug on you even though I might be tempted.

Do you think Mrs. Hudson would let us remodel 221B?  It’s a bit dated and I think we could maximize the space better.  The bathroom definitely needs to be redone.  I don’t mind the wallpaper but some of it must be at least sixty years old.  Maybe that could be freshened up a bit too?

By the way, my mother wants to have a big wedding, but I know she can’t afford it, and I don’t want her to go into debt over it.  I’m not sure at my age I feel it’s her responsibility to pay for it anyhow.  I was wondering how you feel about eloping?  Even so, I still plan on wearing a wedding dress and expect you to be in a morning tuxedo at the very least.  You looked so sharp at John’s wedding.

Gotta go.  Work calls.  I’ll text you later.

I love you! (see, I can use the “I”)

Molly

(Mycroft, if you are reading this, don’t you dare breathe a word of the elopement idea!)


	9. Day 4

**DAY 4**

My Molly,

Mummy would terribly put out if we eloped, but it’s not her wedding, is it?  I’ll think about the idea.  John probably assumes he’ll be my best man, but familial obligations would force me to use Mycroft, and I’m sure he’ll be chuffed (insert sarcasm).  We can talk more about it tonight. 

I ordered a set of DVDs on beekeeping, and I thought you might like it.  Or not.  It arrived today.  I’ve already watched it twice, but I’ll bring it over. I would have waited to see it with you but I have issues with delayed gratification. 

Let me just clear up a few things:

Finances:  I have an accountant who takes care of everything.

Where we will live:  221B Baker Street of course and later at Sparrow’s Nest

Disciplining children: Why is that plural? 

Wills:  I have one, don’t you?

Physically incapacitated issue: Unlikely to happen

Maybe we should skip those particular sessions with the counselor.  As I said, idiot.

Seriously, what is it with you and Thai food?  You ask for it a lot.  I’ll bring fish and chips tonight. Actually, no, I won’t.  Lestrade just rang and I’ll be working tonight.

I’ll text you later.

My love,

SH


	10. Day 4 (Cont'd)

**DAY 4 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

When I say finances, I don’t mean your accountant.  I mean opening a joint account, making investments, paying the bills, who handles the money, that sort of thing.  If there’s a major purchase, who decides or do we decide together?  At what point are decisions autonomous?  What is our monthly budget?  I know what income I’ll bring in, but what about you?  And how do you budget your money when your income is so vacillating?  We’ll definitely have to sit down and discuss budget because I suspect that I may have to put you on a budget.  I get the impression you don’t actually know where all your money goes or how fast it goes.  How much debt is on your credit card and what is your limit?  Do you pay your balance every month?  What are your biggest expenditures on the card?  I’m guessing clothing and restaurants. My point is, that this is stuff we have to talk about as a couple.

You still haven’t told me a story from your childhood, and I want to know what little Sherlock was like and what you did.  Tell me an adventure.  Don’t make anything up.

We didn’t go on many family vacations.  My dad was always working.  He was a very hard worker, and then his health started to go when I was in my teens, and he died while I was at university.  Before he died and while he was still having some good days, he took us on a bike-packing trip from Amsterdam to Paris.  It was hard but it was great fun mostly.  He and mum rode a tandem and hauled a small trailer, and my brothers and I had our own bikes that were kitted.  We ate local cuisine and stopped for lots of pictures.  Really, I think it was the most lovely time I’ve ever had in my life.  My dad was very generous with his laughter and sense of humor.  Everyone loved him, and even though he’s been gone for a many years, I still really miss him.  You’re so fortunate that both your parents are still alive.  Cherish them.  Your dad has been so lovely to already accept me.  I loved him and your mum the moment I met them.  If this were a hand-written letter there would be tears on the paper right now.  You’re not too sentimental but I can be. 

I like Thai food or what passes for it in London.  Fish and chips?  I can hear your arteries clogging from here.  Once in a while is fine but you treat it like gourmet food.  You need more greens in your diet.  I made a promise to your mum to get more greens in you.

Oh, and I had another thought about the wedding.  What if we abstained from sex for three months before so that our wedding night would be that much more special?  We can talk about it the next time you come over. 

Be safe tonight with Lestrade. 

I love you!

Molly


	11. Day 5

**DAY 5**

My Molly,

Budgets = boring.

Why do we have to work out all these money issues now?  I don’t see any issues at all.  We’re both adults.  Can’t we just figure these things out as we go along? 

Money mysteriously appears in my account from time to time.  I know it’s Mycroft but he never admits it.  It started during my Uni days when I was struggling a bit.  I don’t really struggle anymore, but money appears regardless.  I suppose he just wants to make sure I’m all right.  If the money did stop, that would just prove what I’ve known all along, and he won’t give me that satisfaction.  My stock broker always invests it for me.  I haven’t used the funds since leaving Uni.

My largest monthly expense, not including rent, is my cell phone bill.  Actually, it sometimes exceeds the rent.  I have a lot of people in my homeless network on my cell plan, and it adds up quickly.  Cab fares are a large expense as well also at times exceeding the rent.  My father says I should simply purchase a car, but where would I park it?  One really doesn’t need a personal car to live in London although I may acquiesce if there is a child in our future.  One has to be sensible about potential emergencies.

I’m not much for the library, so books are also a part of my expenses.  I could practically keep a bookseller in business all by myself.  I must have a lorry full of books in storage.  Someday I should like them all on display where I can get to them.

As for a joint account, I think your earnings should stay in a separate account.  I certainly don’t need them.

Financial discussion: done.  See how easy that was?

Also, your father sounds like he was a lovely man although I seriously doubt he would approve of me as a son-in-law.  Certainly I would have said something to offend him by now.  It simply doesn’t matter if I try to be pleasant.  I am an arse.

I will try to think of a “story.” 

Three months without sex?  That horror kept me distracted and unfocused last night while I was attempting to work with Lestrade.  Don’t put something like that before me when I am starting a new case.  Very bad form.  We will talk about this the next time we are together.

My love,

SH


	12. DAY 5 (Cont'd)

** DAY 5 (Cont'd) **

Dear Sherlock,

I didn’t mean to disturb your concentration last night.  On the other hand, since I never know when you’ll be on a case, I can’t walk on eggshells all the time for fear I might say the wrong thing.  So don’t place that unfair burden on me, because I won’t tolerate it.

If you have a lorry full of books in storage and they’ve been in storage for more than two years, it’s probably time to part with them.  You obviously don’t need them.  Might be time to donate them to a library.  I can help you go through them if you’d like.

We are not done with the financial discussion.  Obviously we are going to need the counselor to help mediate this because somehow you seem to think the only thing we will share is the bed and living space, and marriage is much more than that.  I think you know that deep down but just don’t want to admit it.  It’s not about you, and it’s not about me.  It’s about us.  Time to open up a whole new wing in your mind palace that is only for us.

There was that “I” thing again.  “ _I_ don’t need your money.”  Why couldn’t you say “We don’t need your money because I can take care of both of us”? 

And yes I have a will, but I will be rewriting mine so that in case I die everything goes to you.  And I will have to update it for each child, just as you will have to update yours that way.  You will have to stop thinking like a single man and learn to think as a couple.

I’m still waiting on a childhood story.

Love you,

Molly


	13. Day 6

**DAY 6**

My Molly,

Again with the plural on the children?  How many do you think we’re having?

I sense a little anger in your last tome.  Is that correct?  You left the “I” out of “Love you” again. Of course I always want you to speak your mind. I was not implying otherwise.

I asked Mrs. Hudson about remodeling and here’s the crux: her plumbing is connected to 221B, and redoing 221B means that hers has to be redone also, and she’s not quite financially able to afford a remodel at this time.  Plus she doesn’t want to be inconvenienced.  I do know a few people in that business and will have them submit estimates for 221A and 221B.  As for the wallpaper, she says you’re welcome to change it out if you like, but that will definitely be a joint decision.  I’ve grown accustomed to this wallpaper and it quite suits me.

I’ve been thinking about renting 221C as well.  She hasn’t rented it in years, so I’m certain I could get it for little to nothing. The problem is the damp and how to deal with it.  Might be nice to move all my lab equipment and chemicals down there.  Might also be a good place for extra storage as long as things were in air-tight containers.  I should test for black mold and other pathogens.  We could do that together, if you’d like.  A couples’ activity.

Story:  I don’t mention Uncle Rudy often.  My mother’s oldest brother.  Mycroft favors that side of the family.  Uncle Rudy is thought to be a bit of a puff, but he’s just a cross-dresser.  He has a small farm in south Wales, and it’s common to see him out working the farm in a dress and heels.  Aside from that he’s been married fifty-five years, has two grown sons and seven grandchildren and two great grandchildren. I spent some disastrous summer holiday times there with my cousins who hadn’t a half a brain between them.  I suppose what other people would label “normal.”  I spent much of my brief visits there alone either reading or studying nature.  Of course Redbeard came with us although he always stayed next to me.  I had a small microscope then and liked to look at the microscopic organisms from the ponds and waterways.  That is until my cousins hid it and accidently broke it, although I have always doubted it was a true accident. Once I helped my aunt butcher a chicken and got to hold the beating heart in my hands until it stopped.  Fascinating.  In general, however, I kept count of the minutes until we left.  I was eight then. I’ve had little to nothing to do with them since, although I still receive an obligatory Christmas and birthday card with a £10 note from my aunt and uncle each year. I don’t know why.  End of story.

A safe thing for me to always watch on telly is nature.  Anything to do with biology, zoology, anthropology, entomology, herpetology  – any of the ologies.  Anything narrated by Sir David Attenborough.  I was quite shocked and saddened at the death of the Crocodile Hunter.   I would very much like to visit Australia Zoo some day.

As for the books…I’ll get back to you on that. Right now your idea is a no.

Yes, I can take care of both of us financially.  That’s what I said. I just don’t think your income should support my personal expenses, and that’s what would happen if we combined our finances.  So keep your income separate, and I’ll take care of the rest.  Start a university fund.  Apparently you think there will be plural offspring.

Do you want to come over tonight or should I go to your place?  Text me what you want for dinner.

My love,

SH


	14. Day 6 (Cont'd)

**DAY 6 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

I am working a double shift tonight and won’t be home until the early hours of morning, so I’ll be eating at the canteen.  I’m already knackered and have thirteen hours to go. I need coffee.

What’s wrong with having more than one child?  I’m not saying I want six, but two would be nice.  We’ve discussed this before.  Why are you being such an arse now?  All I originally said was that one of the things we need to discuss is how to discipline, and you’re bloody freaking out about pluralism.

I really think we need to have a budgetary discussion before you rent 221C.  Also, if the plumbing has to be redone for A and B, it would have to be redone for C as well.  I know you’re already thinking of paying for all of the remodel (admit it!), but do you really want to invest that much into a place you don’t own?  Yes, I want the bathroom remodeled, but let’s see what can be done that is minimally invasive to any of our lives.

You never answered about the three months of abstinence.  What do you think?

Yes, I was a little irritated yesterday because I still don’t think you’re taking our assignment too seriously.  I can see your eyes rolling as you read and write.  We have another session with our counselor in two days.  And he’s not an idiot.  Stop saying that.  You’re being superior and it’s annoying.

I LOVE YOU

Molly


	15. Day 7

**DAY 7**

My, my Molly,

Why is that ever since we started this assignment you seem to find so much of what I do irritating?  I find that irritating itself. That’s why it’s a stupid assignment.  It is causing us to bicker, and I don’t like that at all.  I don’t want any fighting. Despite what you may think, I really don’t enjoy conflict.  If you want diplomacy, marry my brother.

Why are you so concerned about disciplining non-existent children?  There’s not a hard and fast rule about it.  We have to evaluate each situation.  Mycroft was a perfect child.  I was less so. Often they would send me to my room.  I didn’t care.  Wouldn’t even come out later when they asked me to.  I preferred to be alone anyhow.  My mother was the disciplinarian.  Perhaps you would prefer that task? Is that why you keep asking? It’s so premature that I really don’t wish to discuss it.  It will only clutter my brain with useless information that I will delete anyhow.

I generally do not add information into my brain unless it is immediately useful or has long term usefulness.  The above subject is currently neither.

Three months?  What’s the point? Because of our schedules we maybe only have sex once a week and that’s in a good week.  Don’t you think that the first night you are my wife will be one of the most special nights of my life regardless? 

By my calculations you are on your menstrual cycle which explains many of these ideas.

My love,

Sherlock


	16. Day 7 (Cont'd)

**DAY 7 (Cont'd)**

Sherlock,

You prick.

Molly


	17. Day 8

** DAY 8 - COUNSELING SESSION 2 **

My Dear Molly,

We know I’m a prick and a bastard, a cock, a dick.  Never have I felt more so, however, than when you cried during our counseling session this morning. We were perfectly happy before we started this counseling business.  Your idea, I might add.  Now look at us.  You will hardly speak to me.  This counselor will never give his stamp of approval, not that we need it anyhow.  I can read him already.  We are doomed in his eyes.  That’s why we don’t need him.  Let’s just get married today and forget all this nonsense.  Everything will be fine.

All my love,

Sherlock


	18. Day 8 (Cont'd)

**Day 8 (Cont'd)**

Sherlock,

You just don’t get it.  I am posting a real letter.  Watch for it.

Molly


	19. Day 9

**DAY 9 - MOLLY'S HAND-WRITTEN LETTER**

Dear Sherlock,

First of all I’m going to say don’t you ever again use my menstrual cycle as an excuse for your poor behaviors because that’s exactly what you have done.  Don’t ever even bring it up again or think such thoughts again.  That is completely over the top of prickish things you have done and completely out of line.

Second: After everything I have done for you and everything we have been through, that you have the audacity to still ever say anything that rude to me is beyond words of belief.

Third: Don’t ever again use my having a monthly period against me.  _Ever._

To this day I have kept your secrets about how you survived the fall from Bart’s.  I have risked my own life to keep your secrets, and I know many more than that one. 

In the days before we ever became a couple I offered you my flat many times as a bolt hole.  I never asked for anything in return.  I never expected anything in return.  How many times in those days did I just want to put my arms around you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, but I never touched you even when my heart was breaking for you because I respected your personal space.  I was also afraid of being rejected.

When does a crush turn into a deeper, truer love?  What is that moment of conversion?  I can’t pinpoint the moment, but from knowing you for a few years before I finally mustered the courage to ask you if you wanted to go for a coffee to where we are now, I somewhere did cross over. 

Had I ever gone through with marrying Tom, we would have divorced within the first year.  I think he always knew that he didn’t completely have my heart.  I even bought him a coat and scarf like yours, but he wasn’t you. I tried to convince myself that I could make it work with him, but then you gave that manic and wonderful best man speech for John and the strength of the torch that I have always carried for you burned hot and bright again.  Didn’t you know how much I desperately wanted to go with you for fish and chips when you invited me on that day we went to the train guy’s flat?  Don’t you that you took my breath away when you leaned down to kiss my cheek that day?  Don’t you know how much I was hoping you would give me a real kiss?  Tom was/is a kind man, don’t get me wrong, but my heart was for you.  My heart broke for you when you left the wedding early.  I wanted so much to dance with you that night.  I wanted to tell you that I was breaking up with Tom, but you walked out, and I knew why. You felt out of place and alone, and you were happy but hurting because your friendship with John was changing.  That’s partly why you were so manic.  Your brain was on overload with emotions you were trying so hard to keep them in check.  I actually had thought about going after you, but I sensed you needed to be alone and decompress.  My heart hurt for you that night.

You have no idea the depth of love I have carried for you for most of the time I have known you.  There was a time when you brushed me and my feelings aside as if I didn’t matter, but when the chips were down, suddenly I mattered to you.  When you needed something in your darkest hour, you sought me out, and I was there for you despite how you had treated me in the past with your indifference and cutting remarks.

This is exactly why we need pre-marital counseling.  Get married today?  No. You’re not ready, and I’m probably not ready either.  All our counselor asked us to do was to start writing daily letters to each other about anything and everything, and you have fought the assignment every day.  He never said they had to be love letters.  They just had to be letters.  He wanted us to open up our communication because he saw a problem right away – a problem that you refuse to admit exists.  We don’t really communicate properly, and that, I might add, is primarily _your_ issue.  All those years of holding back your emotions and caring because you were/are afraid they would interfere with your genius brain. 

Yet despite everything we’ve been through I still believe in and love William Sherlock Scott Holmes.  I will never stop believing in you.  You are the one I have agreed to marry not because I have carried a torch for you for so long but because I know that I am meant to be by your side as your wife, helpmate, lover, friend, best friend.  I am the one.  Your body has been inside my body, and in some of those moments when our bodies are melded, where you begin and I begin is completely mixed, and I can see directly into your mind and your heart, and _I know you_.  And I love you.  You are the greatest love of my life.  There will never be another.  I will always love you.

But you cannot wound me without repercussions or consequences to the fabric that is us.  I forgive you before you even ask, but that doesn’t erase the wound.  You are my heart, and when you wound me, you wound yourself.  You wound us.  Right now we as a couple are wounded, and I need to know where you stand on making things right and moving forward.

Please think about these things I have said, and please know that even though we are having this little setback that I am committed to us, and that I love you still and that you are worthy of being loved.

Love,

Molly

PS. I’m not on my period.  I’m late.


	20. Day 9 (Cont'd)

**DAY 9 (Cont'd)**

Dear Molly,

What do you mean "late"?  How late are you?  I'm listening.

In the meantime I am composing my response to your letter.  I will have it couriered to you tomorrow.

Love,

Sherlock


	21. Day 10

**DAY 10 - SHERLOCK'S HAND-WRITTEN LETTER**

My darling Molly,

It is possible for my hard heart to break, and your words have smashed it like a grape underfoot. I saw the tear stains on the paper, and your tender hand was shaking as you wrote.  Hurting you is the last thing I would ever want to do, and yet I am solely to blame. Completely and utterly to blame.  My heart is so heavy in me now that I can scarcely breathe.

I can tell you that I have hated counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, the whole lot of them since I was a child.  I have been to untold numbers and I have been angry with them for so many years.  Charlatans, the lot of them.  My parents forced me to go as I struggled through my adolescent and teen years with angst from being a genius and feeling so outcast.  These so called professionals couldn’t help me.  One even went so far as to suggest I be institutionalized.  Drugs are what they wanted for me, and my parents, bless them, did not believe I needed drugs to control the brain power I was learning to harness.  Mycroft accepted and controlled his gifts with ease, but I felt schizophrenic. It took a lot of training and study to pull my mind together and to find ways to filter, process and control the amount of data that flooded in that almost everyone else cannot see.

Please forgive my resistance to this counselor whom I am certain is quite qualified to perform his job.  Nevertheless it is with great trepidation that I face these sessions with him because of my past experiences.  I am on the edge to fight and find fault with everything he says. I would almost prefer to have a tooth drilled without pain killer than to talk to one of these people.  It is only because you asked me to go that I agreed, but I agreed with great reluctance.  I am ready to vomit each time we go.  I’m certain it seems asinine to be afraid to go, but I in truth I loathe these people.

All this, however, does not excuse what I said or meant behind what I now realize were callous words and an unyielding spirit, and I do ask you to forgive me.  I know I must learn to govern my tongue, especially with you, so thank you for your willingness to abide with me as I work to master this issue.  Please always continue to tell me when I have over-stepped my boundaries in either words or actions.  You are the compass of my heart, and I depend on you to show me the right direction.

I was not unaware of your desire to know me better from that first time you asked if I would like to have a coffee, but I didn’t realize until the Christmas party at 221B several months later that your feelings had evolved into love.  I was incapable of reciprocating at that time.  I didn’t know how. It was foreign and useless to me. That anyone should find something in me worth loving in that way was a concept so unfamiliar that I did not know how to process it, especially in the confusing light of what I was going through with Irene Adler. But you are right.  You have always been there for me as first a friend, now as the one who has taught me the meaning of love and how to love. 

I thought about you often when I was undercover.  It took me two years to work up the courage to convince myself that when I got back that I would see if it was possible to develop something more with you.  I thought I would surely die in the Serbian torture cell, and suddenly my life seemed completely empty.  What had I truly accomplished with my life?  What was it really worth?  Love was missing.  I had closed myself off from both giving and receiving it, and my life was a vacant experience.  I could take the beating until my torturer picked up a metal pipe and I knew he was going to start breaking my bones.  After two years absence your voice was fading from my mind palace even though I tried to bolt the doors shut to keep it intact.  Your voice had grown faint, and I was so beaten down that I was ready to give up.  I remembered saying to you that I thought I was going to die. Then like a miracle your voice came strongly to me in what I was sure were about to be my last moments. “What do you need?” Then my head cleared enough that I could make deductions about my torturer that won my reprieve from the excruciating agony I was about to endure.  I would not have survived that beating, I am certain, had I not heard your voice so clearly.

You saved me then, you continue to save me, even from my own folly.   You are the one for me although I do not feel worthy of you.  I needed you before going undercover, and I need you now. I have been so remiss in taking what we have for granted as if it will always be there, but having had you in my arms and in my bed, of being inside you and making us one being, I would be completely undone were I to ever lose you.  I would rather all my bones be broken than to lose the one who has shown herself to be my true soul mate (and I never used to believe in such things).

That day that you helped with cases and we visited “the train guy’s” flat was not just me using you as a substitute for John, even though I absently called you “John” a few times.  I didn’t notice your engagement ring immediately perhaps because you were trying to conceal it or it was winter and you were often wearing gloves.  I asked you to go for fish and chips.  I tried to be so casual about it because I was very nervous.  I couldn’t even look at you when I said it, but you didn’t say yes, and that’s when I knew you wouldn’t cross that line because of Tom, and I had to shift mental gears immediately and stuff all those hopes down again as if they never existed at all.  I was certain we would forever remain as two ships passing in the proverbial night.  I couldn’t kiss you the way I wanted to.  It would have been inappropriate.

You are right that we are not yet ready to marry (although it is less “we” than “I”), and you are equally right that the communication barriers are entirely my issue.  How can we begin to repair this damage that I have caused and move forward?

Yours is my heart alone,

William S.S. Holmes

PS. How late? Should you take a pregnancy test?  If you do, please allow me to come over and hold you in my arms while we await the result.


	22. Day 10 (Cont'd)

**Day 10 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

I’m taking the test tonight.  I’d very much like you to be here when I do.              

I love you,

Molly


	23. Day 11

**DAY 11**

Dear Sherlock,

Thank you for coming over last night and being there for me while I took the test.  I’ll take it again in a week just to confirm the result.  I hope you’ll be here for that too.

Thank you for putting off Greg’s request for help until this morning.  Thank you for staying with me all night and just holding me.  Your arms are so strong and always make me feel safe. Thank you for no sex because you understood that sex wasn’t really what either of us needed at the moment.   Thank you for just being there.

Thank you for watching the movie with me last night.  I know musicals aren’t your cuppa, but you never said a word.  You just held me and stroked my head, and that was so comforting.  Thank you for making me laugh afterwards when you tried to imitate some of the vigorous dancing from the movie.  Never mind about the broken lamp.  It was worth it.  Thank you for letting me see that side of you.  It will be our secret.  No one would believe me anyhow!

Thank you also for the way you smell.  I love that cologne.  Sometimes I put a drop of it on the pillow next to me and imagine that you are there on the nights that you aren’t.   I should get you a lifetime supply.  Sometimes I catch a faint whiff of it in the hallways of Barts, and I instantly think of you and wonder if you are there somewhere.

Thank you for breakfast this morning.  I often skip breakfast except for coffee, so your beans on toast and sausages were a welcome change, and I definitely have more energy at work today. 

Thank you for riding the tube with me to Barts.  I’m sorry all those strangers tried to get your attention to listen to their potential cases or just to see if they could outsmart you.  Is that what it’s like all the time for you when you are out in public?  It must be awful.  It’s no wonder you don’t like public transport.  You showed great restraint, however, in not cutting them down to size or shredding them entirely as you once would have done although that one woman was so obnoxious and persistent that I was secretly wishing you had. 

I’m off work at 1900.  If you’d like to come over again, feel free to bring whatever type of food you wish. 

I love you!

Molly


	24. Day 11 (Cont'd)

**DAY 11 (Cont'd)**

My darling Molly,

Although I have no qualms picking up dinner each time we are together, I would like to try cooking an actual meal sometime.  Maybe we could do it together.  I’m rubbish in the kitchen, but I’m certain I could follow a recipe.  There are loads of instructional videos on YouTube.  Of course we would have to do it in your kitchen as mine is more of a laboratory (again why rental of 221C would be beneficial).

I am the one who should thank you for once again accepting and keeping the secrets of my life and heart.  Even John doesn’t know about the torture I underwent in Serbia.  I was still fairly sore when I returned to Britain.  Mycroft had us air-lifted out to a military base in Israel, and from there we caught a military flight back to Britain where I was in hospital for a day being thoroughly checked over and treated.  But as you know, I have external scars from the beating and I have occasion bouts of PTSD.  Mycroft has tried to get me into therapy for that but I have refused for reasons mentioned previously.  I can mostly shut it down behind a locked room in my mind palace.  When you kiss my scars I really think it does make them a little bit better.  Feel free to do it often.

I do know what you were hinting about in an earlier correspondence, and I put you off on the pluralism of children issue.  Even so, I am not entirely certain how to adequately answer your question. I believe, however, that you and I will be clever enough parents to make the right decision for a child’s discipline when the need arises, and because we will know our child better than anyone, we will know what will work best.  I would like to have one child, but we don’t know if there will be any fertility issues or what our schedules will be for even the first one, so we shall have to evaluate our lives when the time comes to consider a second one.  Ideally if there are two, I’d prefer them to be close in age or maybe we’ll just get lucky and have twins and be done. How do you feel about nannies or an au pair?  I don’t expect you to quit your work (although if you desire to quit, that’s perfectly acceptable), but my work is terribly assorted.  Perhaps also a part-time housekeeper.  Again, not something we have to deal with now but something to think about for the future.  If others can help make our lives more convenient, why not hire them?

I will ask my accountant to send over my latest portfolio, and you can peruse it at your leisure.  Even I’m not entirely certain what the figures are.  As long as more goes in than comes out, I’m happy with that.

Also, musicals are surprisingly tolerable because they have music, and I do love music although I generally prefer a more classical selection.  Also they have dancing, and again, although I prefer classical dance, I am I am perfectly content to see all forms as long as they are done well.  My mother loves musicals, and I suffered through them as a child, but I have grown to appreciate them.  This does not mean I care to see a musical each time we are together.   I do have my tolerance levels, and they can be quickly exceeded.   So do pace yourself.  Mycroft abhors them, but my parents can always talk him into a trip to the West End when they come to London.  He complies because he is the perfect son, but he does hate it.

I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.

It is good to take the test again in a week.  Whatever comes our way is fine with me.

All my love,

Sherlock


	25. Day 12

**DAY 12**

Dear Sherlock,

I suppose you’ve seen the papers this morning. “Sherlock Holmes spotted with unidentified female going in and out of marriage counseling offices.” Did you see that horrible, grainy picture?  I’m certain I’ll exposed by someone at Barts.  I thought we were being so careful but I guess it was bound to happen.  I really don’t want to be in the limelight or followed by the paps.  My life will be a nightmare here at work if people find out.

I feel completely violated and exposed.  I knew it would happen but I just didn’t expect to feel like this.  They will hunt me down.  My life will be researched and splashed into the press.  People will hate me.  People will love me.  I feel sick to my stomach.  I can’t even go into work today.  It’s like our private bubble has burst, and I feel paralyzed.

Can you come over today?

I love you,

Molly


	26. Day 12 (Cont'd)

**DAY 12 (Cont'd)**

My Darling Molly,

I will come over as soon as I finish writing this to you.

Yes, I’ve seen it.  Annoying paps.  Haven’t they anything better to do?  Someone apparently has tipped them off.  My phone has been ringing all morning, and my email has requests from fifty-two newspapers for an interview.  None will be given, of course.

The more we try to hide, the harder they will hunt us, so it may just be best to put together a press release and put it out there for the whole world to see.  They will follow us regardless.  Even Mycroft won’t be able to stop them.  They’ll try to follow me, so I have to play cat and mouse a bit. Unfortunately I’m the mouse (but I am an extremely clever mouse!).

Yes, there may be haters.  I don’t want you soaking in any of that vitriol, so don’t go looking for it.  If you have to divorce yourself from social media, do it. I already have haters, so trust me, it’s not worth it. Keep your eyes and heart only on me.  The opinions of others, especially total strangers, do not matter. Do not let their opinions matter.

Take a shower, get dressed, make your morning coffee and toast. Chin up! Carry on with your normal routine. You have not changed and I have not changed.  That is all that matters.

I will be there shortly.  Not to worry.  All will be fine.

All my love,

Sherlock


	27. Day 12 (Cont'd)

**Day 12 (Cont'd)**

Sherlock,

It’s been three hours and I haven’t heard from you.  You’re not answering my texts or your phone.  Are you okay?

Molly

 

_\- ONE HOUR LATER -_

 

Sherlock

Okay, now you’re worrying me.  I’m trying not to let my brain go to some dark place but this is a little weird.  Can you let me know you’re okay?

I called Mary and she hasn’t heard anything.  John hasn't either.  If I don’t hear from you in the next thirty minutes I’m calling Greg.

Molly

 

_\- THIRTY MINUTES LATER -_

 

Oh Sherlock,

What have you done?  A brawl with a pap?  Greg said you have to be held at least over night.  Guess that will be in the papers too.  Even so, I hope you got the better of whoever it was.  Do I dare look to see if someone recorded it and posted it on YouTube?  I’m coming down to see you.  I’ll bring my kit and see what wounds need tending, if any.

Molly


	28. Day 13

**DAY 13**

My Darling Molly,

Well that was tedious. Not the first time I’ve spent a night behind bars.  I can’t guarantee it will be the last.  Of course Mycroft called Mummy and Dad under the guise that he didn’t want them to read about it in the papers first.  Truth is that I think he rather enjoys telling them about the times I’ve been less than a model citizen.  Makes him feel superior.  Even so, smashing the pap’s windshield and breaking his dash cam was probably not my best moment. That was after the physical fight. Bruises are starting to appear on my face , and I may be developing a black eye.  I received two sutures in a cut above my left eyebrow. 

I’ll have to make a public apology and restitution.  Mycroft will write something for me to say that is politically correct and succinct, and he’s working on damage control, but he warned me that if I ever did something stupid like that again that I was on my own.  He also suggested that perhaps it was time for me to work with a publicist.  Next thing you know he’ll be suggesting I hire a personal security detail.  I loathe the idea of a publicist.  It’s just another person intruding into my life.

I’m at home now.  I’m sorry I caused you all that worry.  I was told you came to see me but that they wouldn’t allow you to treat me as I had already been treated.  Lestrade might have allowed it had he been on the premises but he was up in Hertford. He got me released first thing this morning but not before giving me a verbal scourging.  It is suggested that I keep a low profile for a few days.  The paps are camped out below on Baker Street.  Don’t try to come by until this is sorted.  I’ve made a mess of it, haven’t I?  Mary called and said there were two paps outside her home, and John had to fight off a few of them this morning. Even my parents have apparently been contacted, but they aren’t saying anything. The paps are all asking about “the mysterious woman,” of course. 

I actually do find you delightfully mysterious.  Just when I think I understand you, you upend my assumptions and force me back to the starting gate.  You are a puzzle that I doubt I shall ever solve but that I will never tire of trying to.

I have just looked out the window again and all the obvious paps are gone.  Either Mycroft or my homeless network has run interference with them or perhaps they found something worthy of reporting.  Certainly my private life is not worthy.  Why would anyone care about me anyhow?

This is the bad me: impulsive, dangerous, violent, stupid, disappointing.

All my love,

Sherlock


	29. Day 13 (Cont'd)

**DAY 13 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

Whatever shall I do with you? 

I’m attaching my CV to this email so that you can begin to compose a press release. That will give you something to do while you are under a self-imposed house arrest. That is your assignment for today.  I will simply have to come to the terms with the idea that our relationship is no longer secret, but for the sake of law and order and all things respectable, in the future please don’t do that again.  Also, please do not release the information to the press until I have looked it over.  Also let Mycroft look it over for his professional stamp of approval. 

We will talk about the apology letters that you need to write when I come over tonight after work.  Yes, I am coming over, and if I am seen and identified, so be it.  I can only assume your little altercation yesterday was regarding pap questions about us, and unless someone is physically attacking me in your presence, I don’t want you to come to my defense like that ever again.  I am more resilient than you know.  Let them ask all the questions they want.  We don’t have to give them any answers.  They’ll make up their own answers anyhow.  They’ve been printing gossip and crap photos of you in the rags for years, not to mention all the bad press that happened with the fake suicide.  That was really awful, and even though I knew the truth, it still hurt to read all the horrible things they said about you for months.  So let’s not give them any more fodder for nasty press, okay?  Don’t seek a battle where there isn’t one.

Of course, closer scrutiny into my background may eventually unearth the truth about how I helped you to survive the fall from the roof, all of which was accomplished without hospital authorization, and that may come around to bite me.  There could be an inquiry, I could be discredited and lose my job.  We’ll just take it one day at a time and see what develops and deal with it as it happens.  I’ll never regret my actions to help you.  Never.  If I lose my career, I’ll have no one to blame but myself, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

When I look back at my first email to you yesterday, I feel like such an idiot.  Sorry for writing that way.  I won’t do it again.  That’s probably partly what got you a little fired up yesterday.  So I guess I’m a little to blame, but only a _little_.  The rest is yours.  Seriously, what am I going to do with you?  Do you still have that riding crop?

I love you,

Molly


	30. Day 14

**DAY 14**

My Darling Molly,

I must confess you had me a bit on edge about that riding crop comment yesterday.  Maybe that was the point. Thankfully you don’t have that bit of kink, and likely I would have been disinclined to submit anyhow.  I get no sexual titillation/arousal/enjoyment from having pain inflicted on me or the thought of inflicting it on you. I simply do not have those fantasies, and as you have never mentioned them, I am assuming you don’t either or have held back on the idea to see if I am receptive.  I am not.  Nevertheless I felt duly chastised by your words last night, and I do promise to attempt better self-control in the future.

I assume that by now you have posted the apologetic letters I wrote.  Why is it that I so easily correct myself at your admonition?  I almost never apologize, but even one stern glance from you can make the words instantly come out of my mouth.  It has always been that way.  You have a strange power over me.  Our dear future children will never get away with anything, and I should add that if they ever disrespect you, there will be hell to pay from me.

Thank you for redoing the sutures on my brow so that I would have minimal scarring.  You should consider going into plastics.  You’d be very good at it, not that you’re not good at what you currently do.  I’m not implying anything.  No.   You’re perfectly wonderful at what you do, and I depend on your expertise often.

I suppose we must discuss public displays of affection and what is appropriate now that we will be out in the open.  I’m not entirely comfortable putting my adoration for you on public display, but I do not have issue with holding your hand or putting my arm around you for all to see.  As such, I have been thinking that we should have a first official public outing as a couple.  I have season tickets to the Royal Opera House, and they’re performing Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro” on Friday night – in English, by the way, although the original Italian is the perfect and preferred version, of course.  I’ll send you a summary of the story, if you’d like. Have you ever been to an opera?  I think you’d like it. It’s like a musical on steroids, and it’s a night for dressing up a bit.  A tuxedo for me and something long and formal for you. Let me know if you don’t have anything and I’ll send you shopping with my card.   I’ll supply the sparkle for around your neck.  We’ll have a late dinner at some place respectably posh.  

This “being public” development is actually a bit freeing, isn’t it?  I can finally take you places I’ve wanted to without the stress of being discovered, even if it’s just for a coffee.

As to a suggestion you made several days ago, however, I do think elopement might be in order.  I know our friends and families will be disappointed, but a wedding is a private moment between the two of us, and I don’t want the paps camped out monitoring our every move while the press and social media are guessing dates.  We will go far away from all of this to marry and honeymoon.  I have loads of trusted acquaintances all over the world who will help facilitate and ensure complete privacy.  This is exactly why I sometimes do not accept full payment on a case.  I leave a little unpaid in money to be paid in favor should the need arise.  I will be calling in my favors when the time arises.  Expect an adventure like no other!

All my love,

Sherlock

P.S. I am still not on board with the three months of abstinence before said nuptials.


	31. Day 14 (Cont'd)

**DAY 14 (Cont'd)**

Dear Sherlock,

No, I don’t have a kink for whips and all that, but sometimes things are a bit milk toast between us.  I’m not complaining.  You are a terrific, attentive lover.  Sometimes, however, it feels as if you’ve rehearsed it in your head like a chess match and know several outcomes depending on the move I make, so it lacks a bit of spontaneity.   So although I also don’t enjoy pain and we won’t go there, there are some things I think I’d like to try with you the next time we are together for a night just to mix it up and keep you guessing.  Maybe it will be after the late dinner following the opera.

I don’t really have time to go shopping for a new frock.  I have the frock I wore to the Christmas party a few years ago.  It’s long and black and has a nice swath of bling across the bodice.  You didn’t really notice it at the time, although Greg gave it and me a nice WOW.  In general I don’t have a lot of time for shopping since I often work 60+ hours each week, as you know. That’s why I don’t cook much either.  Cooking is the last thing I want to do on my days off or when I get home.  I barely even get my own knickers washed which is why I have a housekeeper come a half day each week.  Otherwise my flat would never be clean.

Hand holding is always a favorite of mine.  Your hands are never sweaty, and I appreciate that.  Clammy hands are a huge ick factor to me.  Feel free to put your arm around me any time in public or in private, but please don’t feel the need to snog me in public just because a pap might ask you to or because you think you need to prove something to them.  Let’s leave that for private.  And while we’re on the subject, no shagging in inappropriate places like stuck elevators or back alleys.  CCTV is everywhere.  No trying to secretly arouse each other in public.  We will always behave as if your parents are sitting between us.  In other words, with decorum.  We will leave the fun and games for behind closed doors.

I have no intention of spending my entire medical career in the morgue which is why I have begun to branch out and take rotations in surgery as well as teaching this past year.  Even so, I have been questioning whether I am doing something worthy with my expertise.  I like being able to assist you and Greg with forensics, but I’m not sure that plastics is calling me, at least not in the broad sense.  I don’t care to be in a private practice doing breast implants, rhinoplasties, and liposuction.  Repairing cleft palates and giving children their smiles would be very rewarding, I suspect.  I’m not saying that’s what I want to do, but I’d like to go home each day feeling that my medical training and expertise made someone’s world a better place.  Maybe I should talk to John and Mary about it.  Invite them for dinner.

I’m rambling and have to get back to work.  Did you show the press release to Mycroft yet?  Let me know when you send it out.

I’ll see you in the morning at the counselor’s office.

I love you!

Molly


	32. DAY 15

**DAY 15 – COUNSELING SESSION 3**

Dear Sherlock,

You were right.  The counselor is an idiot.  He actually suggested that I am a “repressed alpha female.”  What the hell does that mean?  I don’t have that kind of personality. That guy doesn’t know anything about me.   Just where did that moron get his licence from?  A weekend course?  And then you agreed with him and you sniggered.  I’m not alpha.  I’m not.  Just because I’m quiet doesn’t make me repressed.  I’m an introvert.  There’s a difference.

Oh, and there’s no need to come take the test with me again.  My cycle started up today with a vengeance.  Maybe it was just stress or maybe I’m just starting to enter that phase in life where that part of me is not going to be as predictable as it was before.  I don’t know why it gave a false positive.  That’s never happened before.  I’m going to buy a bunch of pregnancy tests anyhow.  Maybe I’ll just take one every time I’m late.   

I ate two slices of pizza from the canteen when I got to work and now I’m completely bloated.  Sometimes the canteen food just doesn’t set right with me. To top it off, I have wicked cramps.

This whole letter just sounds completely hormonal.  I can’t even think straight right now. 

I’ll call you later.

I love you,

Molly


	33. Day 15 (Cont'd)

**DAY 15 (Cont'd)**

Sweetheart,

I think what the counselor was trying to say is that you can be a little bossy sometimes, and I wasn’t sniggering at you exactly.  I suppose that hearing him say it just tickled me a bit because he’s right. I’ve felt a bit under attack since we started this exercise, as if all the issues we have to work on are my issues, but I laughed inappropriately and I’m sorry.

I like that you have a quiet strength, but when it comes out, it sometimes comes out like a volcanic eruption, and that can burn those closest to you. That is usually me.  I don’t think that makes you alpha at all, but I think he was also saying that if you practiced letting that side of you out more often, you’d be less likely to have those days where you exploded or imploded. I’ve known you long enough to know those days are aggravated by your hormonal fluxes, and don’t try to deny it.  I think you keep a lot inside instead of saying exactly what you feel at the time. 

I find it a bit fascinating that you are much more articulate on paper than you are in person.  I suppose that’s part of this whole writing exercise.  I’m not the only one who has issues communicating, but we can’t be living together as husband and wife and be dependent on you writing letters to let me know how you really feel, can we?  That’s hardly practical.  Be the person you are on paper in your everyday life.  That’s the alpha in you.  I do adore my sweet, cuddling Molly as well, but you are at heart a “people pleaser,” even to your own detriment.  It is acceptable to set boundaries and limits with those around you, and it’s all right to say “no” and not feel guilty about it.  That includes to me. Look at me:  I say no all the time and I never give it another thought but you do.  You never want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you let yourself get walked on and taken advantage of.  I am guilty of having done that to you in the past.  Sorry!  (I do wish to remind you that you are a bit guilty of this device yourself after you have put me in a frenzy during intercourse and you know I won’t deny you anything! I recall that is how you managed to get me to agree to seeing this marriage counselor. A bit naughty of you!)

Of course, I will add that I do enjoy it when the alpha side comes out in bed, and I’m quite intrigued by what you may have planned for us after the opera.  I am strangely aroused just thinking about it.  Not quite sure about your milk toast comment, however.  I expect a detailed explanation of my milk toastiness the next time we are in bed.  Do remember that I own a pair of handcuffs.

Maybe you grew up not being able to express your opinion or your opinion was constantly invalidated, and being the sensitive-natured type that you are, you simply shut down and kept everything inside.  Learning to express yourself is a skill.  I’ve actually learned more about you in these letters in two weeks than I’ve known about you in the years we’ve known each other.  Talk to me, practice with me.  If you feel I ever invalidate you, tell me up front.  You won’t hurt my feelings. Tell me what you need, what you think, what you love, what you hate, and tell me why.  I consider myself a good student of body language, but all my intelligence gifts will never allow me to read your mind, so I must depend on you to tell me.

It’s not as if we are two fresh-faced kids straight out of university who have never dealt with the real world or had to take care of ourselves.   We are two people who have basically lived our entire adult lives alone, we are set in our ways, and we are going to be bringing our separate lives together under one roof.  I understand that it will not always go smoothly.  I imagine we will be butting heads from time to time.  Yet another reason to rent 221C.  I may need to have some place to retreat to.  My own “man cave.”

Mycroft (or someone on his staff) has redone the press release.  I have attached it for your perusal.  Please get back to me with any comments ASAP. 

Also, because I know you, and I know you’ll be crying a bit when you read this, I am sending a little something to you at work.  Be looking for it.

A client just arrived.  I’ll text you later after a trip to Tiffany’s.

You are my heart,

William


	34. Day 16

** Day 16 **

My darling Molly,

I am composing this on my IPhone, so please forgive any grammatical errors.

I am writing this to you at just past midnight as I watch you sleeping in the recovery room after your emergency D&C.  It wasn’t a false positive after all, but your body just didn’t want to accept this little one.  So little that it probably had only just developed a heartbeat. 

I’m sorry the D&C was painful, so sleep off the anesthesia.  I’m sorry the local anesthetic wasn’t enough and that they had to give you general. I’m still right here by your side. Hopefully you’ll wake up soon and I can take you home.  I’ll stay with you all night, of course.

I don’t want to say anything contrite like “it just wasn’t meant to be.”  That is obvious.  I am thankful, however, that it was so unplanned and unexpected that neither of us had our hearts so wrapped up in anticipation for it that we would now be filled with grievous sorrow.  Some day the timing will be good and the baby will stick and grow perfectly.  What is odd to me is that there has been a death and yet there was nothing identifiable because it was simply too small.  It hadn’t even developed its sex yet.  I would like to think it would have been a girl.

My mother thinks I’ll only have girls, as you know.  Something about my heart being too hard and that girls soften a father’s heart.  I don’t mind if we have girls.  A son would be welcome too.  I know you’ll be a wonderful mum.  I cannot think of anyone else I would ever want to be the matriarch of my progeny than you.  Of course my parents will be over the moon with a grandchild.  We’ll hardly get any time with our own child when they visit.  My Dad especially has a keen interest in babies whether they be human or animal.  He has rehabilitated all sorts of orphaned baby wild animals from field mice to sparrows to a fox.  I got my love of nature and all things creeping and crawling from him. I hope I can instill such passion for wildlife in our children.

Our counselor has suggested waiting two years after marriage before trying to have a child so that we could have time adjusting to being married, but I think time is not on our side so much.  I say we just throw caution and protection to the wind starting on our wedding night and let nature take its course.

We don’t have to go to the opera on Friday if you don’t feel up to it.  It’s not important.  We can go any time.  They will have all different ones during the summer.  Did I mention that I have box seats? Perhaps we can even go to a London Symphony concert in the park under the stars.  Of course it’s hard to see the stars in London because of light pollution.  We should take an excursion far from the city sometime and look up at the blanket of stars. I’m not completely rubbish with astronomy despite what John may think.  I just don’t place a lot of importance in it.

I feel as though I should wax poetic to you, but those types of words flee my mind in light of your current situation.  I don’t think I shall ever be a poet.  Such sentiment doesn’t come to my brain easily.  But oh my darling Molly, you don’t know how much I hurt for you right now.  How much I love you, how much I could never bear to lose you. 

You are just starting to stir awake.

All my love for now,

William


	35. Day 16 (Cont'd)

** DAY 16 (Cont’d) **

My dear Sherlock,

It is my turn now to watch you sleep after you having looked after me all night long.  Except for your shoes and jacket, you are still wearing all your clothes. I would love to stroke your curls but I don’t dare for fear of waking you. I want you to sleep.

I can’t thank you enough for being there for me last night. I’m sorry if I ruined any plans you may have had.  I knew that something wasn’t right, however, when I began hemorrhaging rather than just ordinary heavy bleeding. I have no idea how I made it through my shift.  I’m glad they let you be in the room with me for the procedure.  No, that local anesthetic was definitely not enough! I hope I didn’t squeeze your hand too hard, but I am glad you yelled at them that I needed something stronger, and I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in recovery to find you still holding my hand. I’m not sure I remember too much about how we got back to my flat.  Did you carry me part of the way?

I am glad also that I didn’t have my hopes up too much.  I really did think it was a false positive simply because I wasn’t that late, and that’s why I wanted to redo it in a week.  Then if I had had two positives, I would have had something more substantial to base my next line of decisions on.  I don’t know why I wasn’t ready to accept the first positive, but I really wasn’t.

You will make a wonderful father someday despite your reservations about your heart qualifications for the role.  I can’t wait to hear our little one someday say “daddy” to you or even “papa.”  Somehow I think you might be a “papa.”

Thank you for the roses and lilacs you sent yesterday.  People visiting my office kept asking who “William Scott” was because I left the gift tag for all to see.  They’ll know soon enough.

Yes I did cry when I read your email.  There was a lot of truth behind it and it sort of opened a lot of old wounds in me.  Not wounds that you caused.  Really old, old wounds, painful issues from my childhood that I thought I’d so well hidden and locked away. So I am crying again as I write this, but part of that is just exacerbated by hormones.  Now I think that you are much more ready to be married than I am, and that is a little heart-breaking to me because I really did think I was ready.

I have told my boss about the engagement and upcoming announcement and of the possible repercussions from it.  I felt it was only the right thing to do.  She has called a meeting with the higher ups and they will do what they can to protect me from outside interference including beefing up security at Barts for the next few weeks.  Of course, no one can get into the morgue anyhow without proper clearance, and if they did somehow get in here, security would remove them instantly.  As you know we have a guard here at all times.  Even the medical students don’t have clearance to access the morgue.  Barts is putting together its own congratulatory press release to follow our press release within 48 hours.  It’s all happening so quickly.

I was asked to scrub in on an emergency appendectomy yesterday.  It was gangrene! Why it hadn’t exploded I don’t know, but it was the fattest, most bloated appendix I’d ever seen.  I saved it in a specimen jar for you to see.  That surgery is first year med student stuff, but it’s nice to once in a while work on a living patient and to work with live tissue.  They wanted to use staples to close, but I insisted that I had really fine suture expertise, and I proved it.  Sometimes when you do autopsies, you get thought of as little more than a butcher.  That boy will have a scar, of course, but it will be a very fine one.  It was nice to feel that in some small way I made a difference for someone today.

I think I may have changed the trajectory of my medical career because of you.  Not your fault.  If I had became a cardiologist, for example, I never would have met you, but working in the morgue and in pathology meant I would see you once in a while and so I stayed, but now I think that’s not where I’m meant to be.  I want very much to find my niche in medicine.  I hope you’ll understand.  I am first and foremost a doctor, but part of my enjoyment of working at Barts has always been to have you anchored somewhere nearby.  I don’t want to give that up entirely.  Sometimes the days are monotonous and you are the bright spot.  I know that you probably will hate it if I call you my sunshine because you don’t want to be thought of like that, but I can never stop smiling when you are there.

I’m going to be making myself available for emergency medicine for a few hours each day.  Of course, the really big emergencies don’t come to Barts, but we never turn down a true emergency that shows up at our doors.  It’s been a long time since I did a rotation in emergency. Perhaps working with the variety of cases that come in will help me to find that area I’d like to focus on for the rest of my career.  I know I’d like to speak more, and I’d like to write more research papers. I may start working longer hours.  Poor Toby misses me terribly already.  Maybe I should get him a friend.

I agree with your idea of not waiting two years. Besides, it likely won’t happen right away anyhow.  I have a limited supply of eggs left, so it’s my clock that’s ticking more than yours.  Strangely, however, the incidence of fraternal twins increases with a woman’s age.

I am sure I will be fine for the opera and dinner afterwards, and we should be able to resume sex by then but maybe we’ll just take it easier than I had planned.  Make love to me in that tender, sweet way that you only ever show to me.  I’m sorry about that milk-toast comment.  I don’t know why I said it.  It was stupid.  I’m sorry. Delete that. You are extraordinary.

Also, I got the copy of your financial portfolio.  All I can say is holy crap.  Holy, holy crap.  Please, rent 221C by all means.  And pay for all the plumbing to be redone.  Who am I to question what you do with your money?  Obviously your people are taking care of it very well for you.

But I’d love you even if you were a pauper.  I’m going to lie down next to you again and get a little more rest.

XOXOXO

Molly


	36. Day 17

** DAY 17 **

My Darling Molly,

Apparently Scotland Yard is going to do its own press release. Imagine my eyes rolling.

You know that I will support whatever decision you make with your career.  I really want you to find the best fit for your passion and skills, although I never had the impression that you were dissatisfied with pathology and autopsies.  If you leave the morgue entirely, please find a suitable replacement and not some fresh recruit who doesn’t know bullet hole from an arse hole. The thing with you is that you were completely competent at your work from the moment I met you.  I never had to explain things because you simply already knew and saved me a lot of time by giving me the facts. 

I would miss you there. I’ve often wanted you to come with me on cases.  I’ve had my own fantasies about “Holmes and Hooper” as a crime scene team.  And before I forget, when we marry, if you want to keep your surname, that is perfectly acceptable to me. After all, you are a professional and are known by your name. If you wish to take my name, that is also acceptable.  I would like our children to carry my name, but if you would like them to be Hooper-Holmes, that would be acceptable too.

We will have very different schedules and hours but the thing is that we will be under the same roof, and what time we are together will be ours.

My portfolio was interesting although in truth I thought it was less.  My accountant is doing very well by me.  Although I don’t know John’s portfolio, he isn’t exactly struggling either.  On my recommendation he began working with my accountant before I went undercover for two years.  I’m not saying he could retire or he would even want to.  He loves working as do I.  Believe it or not, I’ve always been more of a saver than a spender.

And now, Miss Hooper, it is time for you to share your financial portfolio.

All my love,

Sherlock


	37. Day 17 (Cont'd)

** DAY 17 (Cont’d) **

Dear Sherlock,

First of all, thank you for staying with me today too. I’m feeling pretty much back to my normal self.  You’re in the other room watching telly, and I’m supposed to be napping, but I need to tell you some things, things I’ve never told you.

There is a part of me that would like to do nothing more than stay home and raise our children, but I do worry that I’ll go a bit nutters if I don’t have some outside activity.  Of course we have nursery care here at Barts, but I can’t see keeping my current schedule if we have little ones.  I know I’ll want to stay home with them for a while after they’re born anyhow.  A nanny or au pair?  I don’t know.  It’s too early to answer that question, I think.

My portfolio?  Well, I don’t exactly have one.  I’ll write down a list of everything, and we can go over it later tonight, but I don’t have an accountant or financial advisor.  I never have.  I’m still paying for medical school plus I have a credit card, but I pay off any balance I have each month.

I know I need to learn to communicate better verbally, but I want to tell you about some of the old wounds in my past, and I think I will do it better if I just write it all out.

My mother never really wanted a girl.  I was unplanned.  Although she was never outright cruel to me, she has barely had little to do with me.  She doted on my older brothers, but she couldn’t be bothered to come to my school plays or help me with my school work.  So in a way I grew up without a mum.  She was simply an adult female presence in the house who was biologically related.  I had to project a lot of mother image and needs on teachers and the mums of friends, but that was always a bit awkward.  My mother was/is mentally ill and has spent some time in hospital.  When she stays on her medications she is tolerable but when she goes off, she becomes paranoid and very difficult.  She hears “voices” that tell her to do weird and bad things.  When she’s on the meds and she’s doing well, then she thinks she doesn’t need them anymore.  When I was in my formative years, she was just starting to show signs of the illness but wasn’t getting treatment.  Maybe she was showing signs before then but the stress of a third (and unplanned) child put her mentally over the edge.  Certainly she blamed me for it.  I can try to look back on those years as an adult and say I shouldn’t have taken any of her prattle personally, but that’s all I had, and she could say some very unsettling things that would cut right through me.  Sometimes I hid under my bed for hours when she went into one of her tirades.  I just kept quiet for fear of saying the wrong thing and setting her off.

There was one incident when I was having a really bad day.  I must have been about five, and I was tired and crying in the store, and mother said if I didn’t stop crying she would leave without me.  And she did leave me. Thankfully people knew who she was and a policeman took me home.  She wasn’t even there.  My brothers let me back in. After that she went into hospital for a stay for the first of many.

I believe that the strain of dealing with her is what killed my dad.  I firmly believe that stress can cause cancer.  He took a lot of abuse, mostly verbal, from her, but he never thought that leaving her was the answer.  He only raised his voice at me once when I tried to step in and defend him when mum was off on one of her rants.  He was the polar opposite of her, but he just wasn’t around that much because he was working a lot.   He adored me, and he was so lovely to be cuddled by.  He was my anchor, and then she killed him in her own way.

You told me once that I mattered the most, but when I was growing up, I didn’t think I mattered at all. That’s another reason why I don’t want her to pay for the wedding.  I don’t want to feel beholden to her for that.  She’ll just use it against me when she’s having a bad day – that “look how much I’ve done for you and you’ve always been such an ungrateful child.”  It just reopens old wounds every time she pulls that crap.

I’m not like my Dad.  I didn’t stay.  As soon as I left for university and medical school, I moved all my things out and have never looked back.  I know she’s mentally ill, but I’ve lost sympathy for it having lived with it for the first eighteen years of my life. 

I know it’s silly of me at my age, but I still miss having a mother, because I don’t feel I ever really did.  I’m still longing for her, still searching for her.  I don’t know if your mother can or will want to be a mother to me like I’ve missed, but I hope that I can be a good mother some day.  I want my children to know every day that I love them and that they matter the most, and I will stop working entirely if it means insuring that they feel loved.  I will hug them and kiss them and be there for them.  I will help them with their homework.  I will go to their school activities.  I will teach them to ride a bike and take them to fun places, and I will never, never leave them behind.  Never.

I keep telling myself I’m done crying about the past, but I’ve just cried buckets.  So there it is.

Back to work tomorrow.  Thank you for being willing to stay tonight too and for being willing to escort me to work in the morning, especially in light of the press release going out tomorrow.

I know as soon as I hit “send” you will read it and then rush in here to comfort me, which I need, by the way, but just know that I don’t know how to verbalize these things, and I’m a mess just putting them on paper.  For now it is all I can offer.

I love you.

Molly

 


	38. Day 18

** DAY 18 **

My darling Molly,

I have come to view your emails each day as the most important part of my day.  I anticipate them in the most ridiculous manner: as soon as it arrives, I stop everything and read each sentence again and again.  I don’t want to miss anything, and I am compelled to immediately begin my response. 

My mother does love you.  She’s been fawning over you since the first time she met you, and she has the unsettling habit of offering a cuddle whether one is receptive or not.  I won’t, of course, divulge your past to her.  That is yours to share if you wish and when you are ready.  Lean on her.  She is strong enough to carry half of England on her back.  That sounds terribly sentimental of me to say that, doesn’t it ?  I should tell her often that I appreciate her and all she’s done.  Somehow the words are so difficult to get out of my mouth.  I don’t know why.  Neither Mycroft nor I are particularly demonstrative, so feel free to indulge her and be indulged.  It will take the pressure off of us.

I understand your reasons perfectly for eloping, and I am in total agreement.  Having your mum participate or not is a losing situation for you all around, so eloping is the way that will be the least stressful for you.  My mother will be none too happy either as she will have been cheated out of the only wedding her sons will ever have, but I think the best thing to do is simply announce it when it is all over.  We will have someone video our private vows and we will have professional pictures taken.  That way no one would feel completely slighted. Perhaps we can host a private reception when we return from our honeymoon.  I will pay for it, but I will leave it to my mother to arrange.  Should it be formal or casual?  We’ll send out invitations.

Our press release is out.  We’ll see how quickly this blows up or doesn’t.  I’m hoping towards the latter.  Now we can openly be a couple, and I’m not entirely certain how that works, so if I make missteps, please don’t be too critical.  We’ve managed to keep our relationship out of the public eye for nearly eighteen months.  I’d say that was a victory.  Nevertheless I will miss the cloak and dagger of the secrecy.  Mrs. Hudson has been instructed to say absolutely nothing to the press.  She can be a bit of a gossip, but she can also be fiercely protective.  I think she has always looked on John and I as surrogate sons, and I think she even looks on you now as a bit of a surrogate daughter.  She can carry the other half of England on her back. 

I shall escort you again to Barts tomorrow and any day that you require.  I am so looking forward to taking you to the opera tomorrow night.  I will be at your place at 1800 hours.  I should mention that although I do have box seats, I actually buy out the entire box each year.  It saves me the inglorious task of chatting with fellow enthusiasts.  Small talk is not my area as you know, and this way I can enjoy the opera in peace.  I suppose if Mycroft or my parents ever wanted to come and fill the other seats that would be tolerable.  Of course you may talk to me.  Your voice is always welcome.

One more day before our first official public date.  I am surprisingly quite giddy at the prospect!

All my love,

Sherlock


	39. Day 18 (Cont'd)

**DAY 18 (Cont'd)**

My dear Sherlock, 

Well you saw the extra security today at Bart's although the press release hadn't hit the papers yet.  Even so, thank you for escorting me to my office. All those funny glances as we walked down the hallways with your hand firmly on my back.  Your touch never left me.  Funny how we can just be in the open now although we did get a lot of second glances. They'll all know soon enough.  I think there may be a few who have long suspected it, though.   

I am looking forward to the opera tomorrow. I'll be leaving work mid-afternoon so that I can get properly ready. It almost feels like a first real date!  Perhaps in a way it is.  I did have a chance to look up the opera on Wikipedia and get an overall broad view of it. It sounds quite silly and fun. I am looking forward to dinner afterwards and then the rest of it.  

My boss just came in and suggested that I had perhaps returned to work too early and that I should go home for the remainder of the week.  I feel fine, but I’ll just finish the sentence and then continue from home.

\---

I’m home now.  I picked up a copy of the Daily Mirror.  Nothing.  Must be too early to be in the papers.  Probably by tomorrow.  Mary just called.  She said we’re “trending.”  Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  I think I’ll stay off social media for the day, but curiosity is nearly killing me.  I’m not answering any phone calls unless I know the person.  My mother is calling, but I’m not picking up.  She’s leaving a message.  Oh, she’s put out with you for not being traditional and placing a formal announcement in the paper, and of course she’s put out with me for not making you do it.  She wants to know when we’re planning the wedding.  She could be a loose cannon with press. 

Of course we can’t keep everyone in the dark about the elopement.  I don’t know how much time you’re planning for the wedding/honeymoon, but I will need to have a planned leave of absence from work.  You said that you wanted to get married around Christmas, and that’s six months away.  You still haven’t told me what you’re planning.  Is it going to be a secret even from me?  Will you simply put a tall ladder up to my window and carry me down in the secret of night? There’s something slightly romantic and chivalrous and delightfully naughty about that.  So when do you plan on telling me? 

Oh, and since I’m home and have a little time, and since you offered, I think I’d like to go shopping for a new frock for today.  Is that still okay?  If not, I am perfectly happy to wear what I already mentioned before.  I know there are a lot of posh stores in London, but they aren’t places I shop.  Any suggestions?  What is your budget for it? What is included?  Sorry to sound like this but I'm not accustomed to spending someone else's money on myself.  It's a little exciting but also odd.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow night too!  Can’t wait!

I love you!

Molly

P.S.  I look forward to your daily emails too.  They are like treasures to me.


	40. Day 19

**DAY 19**

My dear Molly,

Mr. Jamal at Harrod’s assured me that you were well taken care of yesterday, and I eagerly look forward to seeing you tonight.  Do not tell me anything about your purchases.  I want to be delightfully surprised when I see you this evening.

I had a violin lesson this morning.  I must confess I have another love.  Her name is Anne-Sophie Mutter, and she is one of the most exquisite violinists on this planet of ours.  One of my favorite recordings of hers is Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D, Op. 61.  I can only aspire to reach that incredible sweetness of tone that she produces, but I fear my tempered heart will never be able to reproduce such beauty.  Nevertheless, that same violin concerto is my new assignment.  I have played it before, but I am too self-critical of the tone I produce.  I need my violin to sing to me.  If I attempt to emulate the sound she produces, I am terribly self-conscious that I am but a lackluster pretender. Could it be that I don’t have enough sentiment in my heart to take my playing to the next level?  Music does require a certain amount of sentiment otherwise one is just playing the notes.  My teacher will tell you that I hit the notes and the tempo but that somehow I am not allowing myself to connect with the music, that somehow I don’t put my heart behind it.  When I say heart, I don’t mean that I lack enthusiasm for the music but that my analytical brain is doing the performing.  He has said that for years.  I’m surprised he tolerates me as a student.  I would have dismissed me long ago.  Of course you needn’t be jealous of Ms. Mutter at all as were she a man producing that sound, I would be just as in love.  It’s not a gender thing.  It’s a music thing.

I don’t want to tell you too much of what I have planned for our wedding until we get closer to the time.  Until then you will simply have to have your curiosity piqued.  I do promise that both wedding and honeymoon will be in places neither of us has been before, and since this planet is a very big place, that leaves an unimaginable amount of possibilities, doesn’t it?  Even though we will elope, I do not ever anticipate but this one marriage, and I still want certain parts of it to be completely traditional, and that includes your bridal gown. I want you in a gown of your choice, so start looking and putting together your ideas.  And silly of me, I know, but I want to lift the veil away from your face and reveal your loveliness. Please have that kind of veil.

I’m ignoring my emails and social media today. I have much more important things on my mind, and you are at the top of my list.  Just below you is an assignment my brother wishes me to take.  He estimates it will take two weeks, and I’d need to brush up on my Russian, but I haven’t committed to it.  Lestrade also has a cold case that he wants me to peruse. Some new evidence has come to light or something like that.  More than likely the evidence wasn’t examined properly the first time. I shall ring him back soon, and perhaps I will go over there later. Doing the assignment for Mycroft would cause me to be completely unavailable and out of touch for two weeks, and I think the timing is not that good.  He can find someone else to do it.  I told him that I’m not really available to be on assignment for the next ten days because of another assignment.  The letter writing one.

I’m off to pick up my tuxedo from the cleaners.  I’ll see you soon!

All my love,

Sherlock

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D Op. 61 with Anne-Sophie Mutter is available for download via ITunes. Enjoy! I think of Sherlock enjoying it every time I listen to it.


	41. Day 19 (Cont'd)

** DAY 19 (Cont’d) **

Darling Sherlock,

I won’t tell you details about what I purchased but I will give you a report of how lovely I was treated there.  Someone actually was waiting for me just inside the front doors and knew me by name.  I assume you must have sent them my picture so they would recognize me.  I felt a bit posh the way they practically waited on me hand and foot, and I just kept thanking them for every little nicety.  I wonder if they get thanked enough or just taken for granted.  Anyhow, they treated me royally in every way.  They even called for a taxi for me to get home, and they escorted me to the taxi under a shield of brollies in case anyone was watching.  I think there may have been some paps outside, but I’m not sure how to spot them unless they are blatantly obvious.  Probably paps are camped outside of Harrod's all the time.  Anyhow, thank you for that special day and making me feel special. 

I’m getting my hair done this afternoon.  That’s also something that I rarely indulge in.  Also a manicure and pedicure.  Wow.  That’s really posh of me.  I generally just don’t have time.

I love it when you play the violin.  You’re really good.  It was lovely when you played for John and Mary.  I know that took a lot of courage to put your talent and composition out there like that, but you were brilliant.  I know you compose a lot of music.  It’s part of your soul, and I hope you write all of it down.  I’m not very musical, but I’ve always wanted to play an instrument.  I did try guitar once, but I got blisters on the ends of my fingers and quit.  Maybe I could get an electric keyboard.  Oh who am I kidding?  I have no time for that. 

I can’t wait to see you tonight!

I love you! XOXOXO

Molly


	42. Day 20

** DAY 20 **

My beautiful Molly,

You could have hardly looked more regal last night than if you’d worn a tiara.  To have you on my arm as we made our way through the crowds to our box nearly made my heart seize with its rapid beating. I felt so incredibly proud for me to be with you. You are always perfect to me, but that was a new kind of perfection.  I will admit to a lump in my throat when I first saw you like that. The diamond necklace and earrings only added to package.  I can’t really take credit for choosing them as I’d be rubbish at that.  An over-eager sales clerk at Tiffany’s was only too happy to steer me in their direction.  He tried to steer me towards a lot of things but I’m not completely incompetent about these issues.  I wanted sparkle.  I did not want to be blinded.

How lovely said jewelry looked on your bare skin later when we returned to your flat and made love. I know you wanted to protect it and put it back its case, but seeing it as the only thing you were wearing stirred me in an unexpected way, as if I were making love to a goddess (if I believed in such things).  Do not think me to have a kink for this, but I did find the visual experience to be exceptionally arousing. You once again melted my heart, Molly, when our bodies became one.  Because I have been one with you and tasted your loveliness, I cannot fathom three months of abstinence.  I know I lived many years of my life without any sexual indulgences, but I am not that same man.  Not at all.  You have broken my shell and exposed the soft flesh of my heart.  You are my heart now. 

Mr. Jamal saw our pictures from last night in today’s press and rang me to say that you had had difficulty choosing between four gowns, and he wondered if I would like the other three for future events. When he sent me pictures of them, I told him to charge them all and send them over.  I hope you don’t mind. I’ll store them up in John’s old room.

What kind of outing should we plan next? I just received a tweet about the “16 British Wild Swimming Spots You Must Visit Before You Die.”  I assume you swim.  We’ve never discussed it.  Let’s visit a few.  Especially like the look of Fingal’s Cave on Staffa Island up in Scotland.  Also the Fairy Pools in Scotland.  Fancy an excursion to Scotland?

Apart for only two hours and I miss you already.  I shall work on my new violin assignment and attempt to add sentimentality to it.

All my love,

Sherlock


	43. Day 20 (Cont'd)

** DAY 20 (Cont’d) **

Dear Sherlock,

Thank you for that splendid evening.  I can’t say I was paying too much attention to the opera (sorry!) as my eyes just couldn’t stop looking at everything inside the Royal Opera House.  Wow!  Wow!  Wow!  Then there was this incredibly handsome gentleman sitting next to me who didn’t look Sherlock Holmesian at all (who is not hard on the eyes also) but like a gentleman out of one of those ancient films from the 1930s about the poshy upper class.  I giggled a bit over your top hat (again, sorry!).  I liked it.  It’s just so different from that deerstalker (which thankfully you rarely wear!).  Of course I was glad when you took it off and I could see the curls I love so much, even if you did have them slicked back a bit.

I loved our dinner.  Fancy going to a place where there are no prices on the menu.  Never done that before!  I’m so glad I’m not allergic to shellfish!  Thanks for encouraging me to have the lobster.  I’ve probably only eaten it a handful of times in my life.  Certainly the raw oysters on the half shell that you practically inhaled seemed to work their anecdotal charm on you later.  I was terrified of getting even the tiniest spot of food on the gown.  I can be such a grub sometimes.  As soon as I get a new white shirt I’m destined to stain it on the first outing. 

I will love the other gowns, yes, but I don’t want you to start spending loads of money on me.  Please don’t. I’m not used to being treated like that and it’s a bit overwhelming, and I don’t quite know how to respond to such expensive gifts. I can’t reciprocate that kind of gift.  Anything I give back would be a token by comparison. I know it’s not about that, but I just feel overwhelmed.  Maybe slow down a little bit? I don’t ever want to take such gifts for granted.  I’m still just the same Molly you first met. I’m completely casual and could pad around in bare feet, pyjamas, no makeup, and my hair undone all day long and be quite happy.  Just know that you never have to buy me expensive things to make me happy.  _You_ make me happy.  A Scotch pie from a street vendor makes me as happy as a lobster dinner.  I’m just plain Molly who likes to occasionally dress up for the man she loves!

I loved waking up next to you this morning.  I always do.  I love morning talk in bed when your eyes first open, and your voice is extra deep and sexy.  I like your fluffy bed-head, and I love to watch your naked bum when you get out of bed to go take your morning wee.  I just want to give your bum a little squeeze each time. I think you like to watch my arse too when it’s my turn.  And then I love getting back under the warm covers with you and having a morning quickie like today.  December seems so far away to get married.  Why are we waiting so long?  I want to come home to you every night and wake up with you every morning.

I know you can’t talk about the assignments from Mycroft.  Not too much at least.  I don’t ever want to hold you back from taking an assignment.  He wouldn’t offer you one unless you were the one he thought was the perfect person for the job.  If you can’t communicate directly with me while you are undercover, then Mycroft will always relay anything I need to know. I know he depends on you for certain types of cases, but I also know you don’t like going undercover because you are away from England.  I know you love me, but I know you love England more, and I have no jealousy over that. Patriotism is a lovely thing.  Even so, you are really a homebody.  Put your feet up in front of the fire and read or be examining evidence under your microscope.  My point is, though, that if you were in the military, you would probably be sent to some remote location for months at a time, and I would be left here waiting for you.  So I guess two weeks away now and then for Mycroft doesn’t seem like nearly as bitter a hardship. 

As for Scotland, maybe later this summer.  I may be able to put in several double shifts and get some extra time off.  Oh, and yes, I swim.  Not competitively but I can tread water. 

I think I will do absolutely nothing today.  Maybe read a book or watch telly.  Uh oh.  Toby just hacked up a lovely hairball on my work shoes.  It never ends.

I love you!

Molly


	44. Day 21

** DAY 21 **

My darling Molly,

Never call yourself plain again.  Never.  I won’t permit it. You are extraordinary.

I know it seems like we’re waiting a long time but there’s a reason, and I need you to trust me.  The time will go faster than you know.  I know you would like me to exhibit spontaneous behaviors, but one cannot plan that or it doesn’t qualify as spontaneous, does it?  Some things must be planned and booked months in advance, and I have already done that.  I will, however, give you one clue:  National Geographic.  Go sort that out.  Mycroft would have it sorted out in under ten seconds on that clue alone. You know me.  Think.

Whenever I do return from one of Mycroft’s assignments, I always need a few days to decompress.  I will likely be moody, irascible, uncommunicative, and need a lot of space.  Another reason for renting 221C.  You won’t want to be around me, and the longer the assignment, the worse I get, although this applies only to the assignments out of the country.  His quirky little jobs within England are often nothing more than just legwork he doesn’t wish to contend with.  He can be extraordinarily lazy sometimes.

Mycroft keeps texting me.  I’m off to meet him at the Diogonese Club.  Also, that bit with Lestrade?  Definitely they overlooked the obvious.  An arrest has been made, and I have received a tidy payment from the victim’s family who now can have closure.  Sometimes it is too easy.

I’ll text you later.

All my love,

Sherlock


	45. Day 21 (Cont'd)

** DAY 21 (Cont’d) **

Dear Sherlock,

You know I can go behind your back and simply ask Myrcroft to explain National Geographic which I have done, by the way, but I didn’t let him just tell me.  I asked him to help me to step it out with all the different pieces of the puzzle. I will forever be trying to learn how your brains work. You were right.  He knew in under ten seconds.  Whereas the two of you can pull all those bits out of thin air and instantly put them together, we mere mortals struggle a bit.  Nevertheless, I want you to know that once I had the pieces, I could put it together although the National Geographic clue was not terribly helpful.  It was an obscure reference.    Oh, but I approve, by the way.  Wow!  I say wow a lot don’t I?

He asked me to ask you to reconsider the two-week assignment.  Apparently he thinks I have some sort of power over you and that if I ask you to do it, you will.  I won’t ask you.  It’s your decision.  I will just support you either way.  He did sound like he really needed you, though.  I’m sure you’ll let me know what you’ve decided after your visit with him.

I’m back to work tomorrow as soon as we finish our counseling appointment.  I dread to think of what I’m going to face with work piled up or fixing the work of others.  Don’t feel you have to escort me tomorrow, but if you want to that’s fine. 

I finally had to call my mother and talk to her because she was threatening to come over, and that’s never a good scene.  I told her we hadn’t set a date and that it was a long way in the future, likely.  She wanted to know why I wasn’t at work all week, and I told her I hadn’t been well but that I was fine now.  Of course then she went into the fact that I was apparently well enough to go to the opera because she saw our picture in the paper (i.e. I must have been faking it just so I could have a fancy night out with you). It’s always best not to give her too many details. Details = ammunition.

Also, as I said before, it’s fine if you want to rent 221C.  Let’s take a close look at it, however, and make sure that the mold and damp situation isn’t deadly.  We’ll start doing tests this next week.  We have to see what can be done to make it more inhabitable.  Otherwise all your experiments could be tainted, and also don’t want you getting sick down there while you’re decompressing or doing work.  Of course, we have to talk about the plumbing situation too.  Perhaps Mrs. Hudson could spend a few days with her sister while hers is being redone?

I love you!

Molly


	46. Day 22

** DAY 22 – Counseling session 4 **

Dear Sherlock,

I didn’t even have to ask you today, and you obviously weren’t going to talk about it, not even to me.  You’ve accepted the assignment from Mycroft.  I could see it in your eyes when you weren’t trying to avoid mine.  I told you, it’s okay. Just go do it and come back.  I’ll still be here waiting for you as always.  Really, I’m proud of you and the work that you do for him, whatever that is.

Do you want me to get estimates on the plumbing issues while you’re gone?  I can go over and take care of whatever you need.  Just let me know.

I love you.

Molly


	47. Day 22 (Cont'd)

** DAY 22 (Cont’d) **

Dear Molly,

I cannot discuss this matter further with you. 

As for the plumbing and 221C, I don’t want you to do anything.  Just leave it.  It’s not important at the moment.

Mycroft will be your liaison.

All my love,

Sherlock


	48. Day 23

** DAY 23 **

Dear Sherlock,

I don’t know where you are right now but somehow I don’t think you’re in England anymore.  However, even though you can’t be here to write your letters, I am going to continue, and then you can read them when it’s convenient.

I know you shut down your emotions when you’re on a case, but don’t shut me down before you go, because you were a bit abrupt about it.  I’m not being critical.  I’m just saying.  I told you it was fine to go.  Just give me a proper goodbye.  Something.  If one was really of unsound mind, your last email could almost sound fatalistic.  I’m sure there’s always an element of danger in what you’re doing, but you’re Sherlock Holmes.  If you can’t survive it, no one can.  Maybe that’s why Mycroft wanted you for the case so much.  Because he knew it took the cleverest man on earth to do it.

I think Mycroft may have upgraded my security status higher.  I don’t know if he’s just being overly protective of me while you’re away (although that seems uncharacteristically sentimental of him), or if it has something to do with your case.  I told him I’ve been asked by three news shows for an interview, and he’s got his people handling it.  Maybe he’s afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, but I don’t want to go on a news show anyhow so it doesn’t matter.  I don’t owe anyone details of my private life.  I’m a private citizen of the Commonwealth and I plan to stay that way.  He’s going to have a car take me to work each day and pick me up and take me home.  I told him it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. 

He’s taking me to dinner tonight.  Since you have told me so few stories about your childhood, I plan to see what I can get out of him on the subject.

I’ve picked up one of those brides magazines today and was thumbing through it on my break at work.  Of course all my co-workers had their opinions on what I should wear.  It’s strange, but although I have thought about being your wife, I haven’t really given much thought to the wedding dress.  I just sort of wish we could be on one side of a line for a moment and then step over the line and just be married that instantly.  No fuss. Even so, I am looking at the dresses.  Some are just ghastly.  What self-respecting woman would wear some of these atrocities?  There’s one that’s full length in the front, but the back of the skirt just isn’t there.  I mean, it’s all front.  What is that woman selling that wears that thing with her arse hanging out the back? Shame on that designer.  Almost everything is strapless.  Anyhow, so far nothing has quite caught my fancy as a whole package.  Just bits here and there.  Seems weird to be even looking at them.  I’ll keep looking. 

By the way, Mike Stamford said he’s known for a long time that we fancied each other.  He said he figured out the engagement long ago too.  He was just wondering why it was taking us so long to go public. Were we that obvious?   

I rang Mrs. Hudson to see if she needed anything while you were out of town.  Oops.  She didn’t even know you were gone.  I didn’t say anything much else except that you were away on a case and she just didn’t seem to be bothered one way or the other.  Sorry.  I was just trying to be helpful.  I know she sort of looks after you a bit, but you look after her too. She said she was going to clean out your refrigerator today because the bins get emptied tomorrow.  I should probably give it a thorough scrubbing inside.  Who knows what germ warfare is happening in there.

Don’t want to bore you, so I’ll end this here.

I love you!

Molly


	49. Day 24

** DAY 24 **

Dear Sherlock,

I had a lovely dinner with Mycroft last night.  He’s really quite polite although also quite reserved.  He kept calling me "Miss Hooper."  Seems to have a hard time with "Molly." Is that just because he's so boarding school formal?

Of course I couldn’t ask him any specifics about the case you’re on, but I did want to know if any of your cases would ever require you to be unfaithful to me to get the job done.  He just sighed heavily and rolled his eyes and said I watched too many movies and that reality was rarely so eventful.  Even so, I hope not.  I believe you have the integrity to stay faithful.  Sorry, I’ve just never been in this situation before with you while we were in a relationship.  I had thought these days of working for your brother were over, but perhaps they never will be entirely. 

He said you won’t be receiving my emails during the assignment.  That’s okay.  I understand if they would be distracting.  I know you need all your focus when you’re working.  I’ll still write them and you can read them when you get back.

He was reluctant to talk about your childhood because he said you wouldn’t appreciate it and that he needed to honour your wishes, but he did think that the best Christmas memory you ever had was probably getting Redbeard. Awwww.  So sweet.

He has suggested that perhaps while you are out of town that it would be prudent of me to stay with your parents (prudent was his word, not mine).  I said I wanted to keep my routine at the hospital to keep my mind off your absence, but he is being fairly persistent.  Does anyone ever truly say “no” to him and get away with it?  It doesn’t seem that way. But I’m still here and still working, and he can just get over himself. 

I scrubbed in on a foot amputation today.  Diabetic.  I asked the woman if I could have her foot for pathological study, and she signed it over to me before the operation.  I’ll show it to you when you get back, and we can dissect it together if you’d like.  Poor dear, I think she’s going to lose the other foot too. If she had only watched her diet and stayed on her meds and lost some weight, it could have been a different outcome.

I don’t think doctors should play prison guard with their patients, but I do think patients need to be more accountable for their actions. For example, if a patient is on a weight loss program, they should be required to daily send in their food intake and exercise regimen.  The internet makes all of this completely possible. If they fail to comply, the doctor should have the right to tell them to seek help elsewhere.  I mean, there’s just no accountability ever, and often we are just wasting our time.   I know that’s just me partly ranting about my mother never staying on her meds. My brothers have taken a pretty good emotional beating from her over the years too, but they got to the point where they were physically stronger than she was and could restrain her when she was out of control. 

Mycroft is taking me to a late dinner again tonight.  I don’t really want to go (although I did get a lobster dinner out of him! Yum!).  I’m tired, but he is insistent that he has something important to discuss with me that he can only do in person. I hope it’s not your final will and testament. Trust me, he’ll be paying for another lobster although I might go for the beef wellington.  Or maybe the giant stuffed prawns.  I have to be back at work early tomorrow, so he’d better not keep me out too late, and I hope he doesn’t think I’m going to have dinner with him every night.  I’ll put on two stone before you get back.  Still, maybe he has an update about you or your case. 

It’s so strange not to be able to text you or get a response from you.  Like talking into a void.

I’m going to download a copy of that opera into my ITunes.  I’m also downloading the Beethoven thing with Anne-Sophie Mutter that you told me about.  I want to know what you’re having to learn.

I miss you already, but I promise not to go on about that and sound like a pining schoolgirl.

I love you,

Molly


	50. Day 25

** DAY 25 **

Dear Sherlock,

Mycroft’s idea of late dinner was Thai take-away in the car as he immediately had us driven all the way to Devon to your parents’ house after my shift was done.  When I tried to protest about Toby, he said he was already there waiting for me with enough of my things to last me for a while.  So, knowing a stranger or strangers, even on your brother’s government business, were in my flat when I wasn’t there is unsettling.  It’s a little violating. I don’t like it. It freaks me out. I feel burgled.   I had some pretty strong words for my future brother-in-law in the car. I may have yelled and swore and cried.  I was so angry at his deception. All I know is that my flat had better not be a mess when I get back, or he’s going to get another round of it.  And I’m changing the bloody locks and getting a security system.  I suppose you knew this was going to happen. 

I know Mycroft can move mountains, and obviously he arranged something with Barts, but I do feel a bit kidnapped, and I would like to be able to have a say in what is done with my life.  Oh, he also confiscated my phone and gave me a different one, and then he took out the battery out of the old one and disabled it.  I know he’s just protecting me, but still.  A little warning would be nice.  Is this going to happen all the time?  And how the hell was all my information already on the new phone?  It’s creepy.  Then he dared to say I was over-reacting.  You and I had a code if I was ever to go to your parents’ house, and it was not used. The code was not “prudent!” It’s PIRATE. Maybe you forgot to tell Mycroft?

So now I am thinking that whatever you are doing has something to do with protecting me, but maybe I’m just putting all the pieces together incorrectly.  It probably has nothing to do with me at all and I’m just being paranoid.

We didn’t arrive until nearly 0300 hours, and he didn’t stay.  He barely even waved to your mum. I don’t know why he took such a long way to get there.  Then he just dropped me off, and this is where I am to stay until further notice according to him. 

Your mum met me at the door and got me settled in.  Toby was already in my room but was hiding under the bed, and I couldn’t get him to come out. He’s probably traumatized for life.  

When I got up several hours later, your mum made me tea and some very late breakfast, and we sat in the living room and chatted while your father was outside puttering around the garden.

I cried today and was fairly inconsolable for a while.  It’s been a bit overwhelming for me these past few weeks.  Maybe the impact of the miscarriage has finally hit me.  This is two for us now.  What if ultimately we discover that I just can’t carry one to full term?   I think part of me would be devastated.  I’m going to talk to my GYN about it when I get back to London and see if there’s something I can do to improve the outcome. I know we weren't planning either one (and your mother wishes to remind you of the availability of condoms), but someday we will plan, and what if the outcome is the same?

I told your mum about the miscarriage, and she was so comforting afterwards.  Maybe I’ll tell her about my mother later, but I don’t know if I can handle crying twice in one day.  This whole thing is too emotionally exhausting. 

Your dad put some freshly cut roses in my room.  I think he’s trying to cheer me up, but I’m not feeling cheery.  I just want to cry.

Apparently we will be missing our next counseling session.  I’ll be emailing him to let him know that neither of us can make it and that we need to reschedule.  Maybe I’ll have him reschedule the next two.

I love you. I miss you.  Come back soon.

Molly


	51. Day 26

**DAY 26**

Dear Sherlock,

Mycroft gave me instructions not to go into town but to stay put. I’m not even sure I’m supposed to go outside so I won’t.  I sort of feel like I’m under house arrest.

Your Mum is making lasagna for dinner, and I’m going to help.  I’ve never made it, and she said it’s terribly easy, so she’s actually going to have me do all the work and coach me through it.  She said it’s one of your favorites.  I guess since I’m going to be here a little while I will get her to give me some cooking lessons.  I want to know what all your favorites are and learn those first.  Of course, I still don’t have a lot of time to cook, but at least I will know how to do it.  Your father says she can make something fantastic out of almost nothing.  I have a feeling we’ll be in the kitchen a lot.  I was quite embarrassed to tell her that my oven has never been used for anything but storage and that I rarely use the cooker except for an occasional scrambled egg.

Your dad put new roses in my room today.  The others were fine, but he insisted.  Still trying to cheer me up, I guess. Not much to do here but read or watch telly.  I’m assuming that since I am so sequestered that I must be in some sort of danger. I’m still thinking that’s what your case is regarding.  I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt me except to maybe use me as leverage against you.  But Moriarty is long dead.  So I don’t know what’s going on now.  I’m trying not to think about what’s going on too much, but my stomach is pretty flip-flop right now.  What a horrible world that someone could be like that. I’m just letting all incoming calls go to voice mail.  I don’t know what to say to anyone anyhow.

Okay, I’m just going to put this out there in the universe:  I hope our first child is a girl.  There, I’ve said it.  I want a girl for you so badly.  I want you to someday have a little son too, but I really want you to have a daughter first.  I know you will delight in her.  I know you will be stern and strict as needed, but I also know that she will have you wrapped around her littlest finger, and you might be a little bit of a pushover.  Although there are things that you and I have seen because of our work, let’s not show her those things.  I want her to believe in magical beings and magical things and feel completely safe and secure from the horrors of the world.  I have heard that you showed some graphic corpse pictures to the young boy who was a page at John and Mary’s wedding, and I have to say that was a lapse in good judgment.  I really don’t want our children to see such things.  We only see them because of the professions we have chosen.  The general public does not see them.  Yes, I want to keep our children in a protective bubble for as long as possible.  The world is a difficult enough place to live, and they don’t need to be exposed to the ugliness while they’re hearts are still so tender.

Mycroft rang me on this new phone.  He wanted to know if I needed anything.  I said I needed to go home and go back to my job, and he didn’t respond to that. He won’t tell me anything. Of course, he was asking if I wanted some magazines or movies, or things to keep me entertained.  So just to yank his chain a bit, I said I wanted some brides magazines .  A thick packet of them arrived within two hours.  Now your mother and I are looking at them.  I adore her so much and feel deceitful that we are planning to elope.  I don’t think I can do that to them.  What if we just got married at their house? I also think your father would be terribly disappointed if we eloped.  I adore him to bits.

* * *

We made the lasagna.  Your dad said it was the best he ever ate, but he was probably just being nice.  It wasn’t really that hard.  It just takes a little time to do all the layering, but then you cover it with aluminum and pop it into the oven for a bit.  We also had garlic bread and salad, and your dad had made some home-made blackberry sherbet earlier that was delicious.  Tomorrow your mother is going to teach me how to make yeast bread and some quick breads.

I can’t wait to see you again and be eating dinner with you and just being our normal selves again.  I wish I had the diamond jewelry and dress that you bought me to show them.  If Mycroft asks me again what I need, I’ll tell him those things.  I wish I’d thought of them earlier.  Of course they saw the pictures in the paper, but in person it’s different.

You left a small bottle of your cologne here the last time we visited.  I put some on my pillow.  I can smell you again.  This new phone doesn’t have any of your old recorded messages on it, dammit.  I used to listen to them just to hear your voice.

A week ago today we were at the opera.  We were making love.  Now my life is turned upside down, and you’re not here.  Nothing seems right. 

I love you so much. 

Molly


	52. Day 27

** DAY 27 **

Dear Sherlock,

I said a little prayer for you today.  I know you don’t believe in such things, but I do.  And what can it hurt to send good thoughts for you out into the universe?  Nothing.  So I’m going to keep doing it.  Your mother said she says a little prayer for you and Mycroft every day.

It rained a little bit last night, but this morning the sky is just partly cloudy, and there’s a lot of brilliant sunshine that’s sparkling on all the rain-splattered grasses and plants.  The quiet of your parents’ home is so different from the hustle of London.  I could get used to it here.  I really could.

Speaking of getting used to it, Toby made an appearance today.  He’s been using his litter box but has been mostly hiding under the bed.  Today your father coaxed him out with a bit of smoked salmon, and they’ve become best pals.  Toby is curled up on his chest while he naps in his reclining chair.  It reminds me of the way he curls up on your chest when you are napping on my sofa.

We had two military helicopters make a couple of low passes overhead today.  I don’t know what they were going on about.  Is there a military base nearby?  Maybe they were just doing some training, but those things are so noisy! I hate it when they do that.  I just want to yell at them to shut up. I hate it when the helicopters are buzzing the neighborhood in London.  They never tell you why they’re doing it.  It’s never on the news.  It just rattles right through to your core.

Your mum and I made bread today.  She said your dad’s a big bread eater.  Just loves it.  Of course my little yeast rolls didn’t look quite as nice as your mum’s but they tasted good all the same.  Then we made some banana bread and it was fantastic.  I’ve put one loaf in the freezer to bring back and share with you.  Tomorrow your dad is going to fire up the grill and we’ll be having steaks.  I’m absolutely useless at cooking meats, so this will be good.  Maybe I can get one of those little portable grills for the balcony and we can grill meats out there sometime.  On Monday she’s going to teach me how to make pie crusts from scratch, and then we’re going to make custard pie.  She said custard is one of your favorite things too.  So I have a lot of learning to do.  I’ll probably make it so much for you that you’ll get sick of it. Hmm.  Maybe that’s why I’ve really been brought here – to learn to cook for you.  That's really your devious plan. No, I’m just kidding.

I won’t have any holidays or sick days to take when I get back.  I’m sure I’m over my limit or at least at the max, so it may be a while before I build up a few consecutive days off, enough to do something special with you.

I think about you all the time and wonder what you’re doing, if you’re okay, that sort of thing.  Mycroft is right that I probably watch too many movies.  Please be safe. Please.  I am reading all of your emails which I have saved, of course.  I think I was a little hard on you at the start of this exercise, and I hope you’ll forgive me.  You had things under control.  You always do, and I have to learn to trust in that.  That’s not something I’m used to doing.  I’m used to taking care of everything myself, making sure things are done.  Here I am, still doing this assignment.  I don’t know why.  We should have just stopped it and restarted when you came back.  I guess I just feel I need to keep writing to you and to keep journaling what is going on.

I love you so much.

Molly


	53. Day 28

** DAY 28 **

Dear Sherlock,

I know we’re not married yet, so please forgive me, but I called your mother “Mum” today.  I hope you don’t mind.  As soon as I said it I started to cry.  I was just testing the word, and it was more than I could take.  I don’t know if she understands or senses something about me, but she said it was okay to call her that.  It doesn’t just roll off my tongue.  It felt forced and awkward.  I hope it doesn’t always.  I want to call both of your parents “Mum” and “Dad” but right now I’ll just stick with their first names.  Maybe I’ll just gradually work up to it and it will become as natural as water flowing from the tap.

So today your dad fired up the grill and made filet steaks.  Apparently he watches a lot of Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver plus some old Julia Child and Fanny Craddock.  Not sure I’m completely up to grilling a perfect filet, but I do understand it.  I didn’t go outside, of course as I’m not supposed to, but I stood near the door and watched.   Your mother made twice-stuffed potatoes that I could make a meal on alone.  She’s such a wonderful cook.  She makes it look so effortless.  She said that someday when we do have a baby and the baby starts eating solid food that we should look into getting a baby food grinder and always make our own baby food because it’s so much healthier.  Organic only, of course.  She also suggests that I should go on a detox diet and then replace it with an organic only diet. Maybe she’s right about toxicity in my system making me unable to carry a child.  Okay, no more eating at the canteen. No more junk food. From now on it’s healthy only! I think she’s really looking forward to being a grandmother someday, but I think she’d like us to wait until we were married before we brought a child into the world, not that we were intentionally trying either time.  She can be remarkably progressive and old-fashioned at the same time.  Did I say how much I loved her? And your dad?

Your dad went out early and brought home some pastries for us, and he bought some lovely freshly roasted coffee beans which he proceeded to grind and then make us the most heavenly coffee.  I should get my own coffee grinder and stop making that instant crap.  My kitchen is really lacking in the proper gadgets and equipment. (This is _not_ a hint for you to buy me any of these things!!)

I feel a bit of a burden to them here.  I try not to get in their way too much. They have their own lives, after all. I do love them, though.  Your mum always wakes up cheerful and is humming in the kitchen. I like the smell of your Dad’s pipe tobacco, but I’m not saying I want you to pick up that habit.  I don’t.  I don’t.  No more smoking for you. 

I do miss work.  I don’t know what they’re thinking of me being gone so much.  I’m sure my co-workers will give me a lot of teasing when I get back.  I’m also anxious to dissect that foot and catalogue the tissue degeneration from diabetes.  The outer wounds are only the symptom.  It’s where the problem starts higher up that I want to take a closer look.  I hope that woman is recovering well.  I’ll stop by and see her when I get back.  I think it would be pretty devastating to lose part of limb, even if it was so damaged.

I’m going to go up to my room now and read over your letters again and put some more of your cologne on my pillow.  I miss you.  I miss you being in the same room even if you say nothing. I miss spooning with you.  I miss curling up at your side.  I miss your warm body. I miss you inside me, filling me, making me ache for more from you, bringing our bodies into simultaneous orgasm. Your lean, sculpted and strong muscles remind me of a thoroughbred stallion, and I get little contractions now just thinking about you pumping me, stretching me, making me cry your name.   

Please be safe.  I’m praying for you again.   

All my love always,

Molly


	54. Day 29

** DAY 29 **

Dear Sherlock,

Today would have been our fifth counseling session.  I told our counselor that you had been called away for work for a couple of weeks but that we’d resume our sessions as soon as you got back.  He chuckled something about the great detective Sherlock Holmes being on a grand case and what a life of adventure you must have.

I’ve been walking by the piano in your parents’ house for days but as you know I don’t play any instruments.  Your mum sat down next to me on the bench and proceeded to give me a first piano lesson.  I’m not really sure how much I retained, but we had fun with it.  I’m not saying I want to continue, but she made me believe that anyone, at any age could learn to play.  Then she played for me, and it was lovely.  Then your dad came next to the piano, and she played some old musical numbers that he sang to, plus he sang some silly old patriotic songs that I didn’t really know the words to.  I’m a moron with stuff like that.  They are so sweet and happy together.  Did I say enough how much I completely adore them?

I emailed Mycroft and asked him how much longer I was supposed to be here.  I really, really want to be back at work.  He hasn’t answered me yet.  He probably thinks I acted very spoiled in the car with him, but it wasn’t right the way he brought me here.  It wasn’t.  Don’t let him ever do it to me like that again.  Just let me know up front if I need to go to your parents’ house, and I’ll be on the next train.  We have a code.  Use it.

So today it’s pie crusts and custard.  She says tomorrow is a completely vegetarian day.  So we're making pizza but the crust will be out of mashed and baked cauliflower.  Not sure about that idea, but I'll let you know how it goes (cauliflower is not my favorite veggie).  

I think I want to have Mary and John over when you get back, and I want to make dinner for all of us, if that’s okay with you.  Maybe afterwards we can all go to one of those symphonies in the park like you suggested.

Gotta go.  Pie crust is calling me.

I love you.  I love you.  I love you. XOXOXO

Molly


	55. Day 30

** DAY 30 **

Dear Miss Hooper,

Sherlock’s assignment has been completed earlier than anticipated. I am certain he will be in touch very soon.

A car should be arriving at my parents’ residence as you read this.  You, your feline and belongings will be returned to your domicile in London immediately whereupon you may resume all your normal activities.

Thank you for your cooperation. Please accept my sincere apology for any inconvenience.

Kind regards,

Mycroft Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a few days since there were 2 "chapters" in a day, so I am just pointing out to go to the next one.


	56. Day 30 (Cont'd)

** DAY 30 (Cont’d) **

Dear Sherlock,

I am assuming you’re home now, but I’m not going to try to call or bother you at all.  I know you’ll make contact when you are ready.

By the way, your mum thinks we have to invite my mum to the wedding.  She says she understands how I feel but that I would regret it if I don’t.  She asked me what my father would have wanted, and then I cried and cried. 

But now, no more crying!  Because you either are home or on your way! Okay, maybe some happy tears!

I’m on my way back to London now.

I love you! I’ve missed you so so so so so much! XOXOXO

Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over quite yet. Some months have 31 days... :)


	57. Day 31

** DAY 31 **

My darling, darling Molly,

I am jet-lagged and mentally and physically exhausted, but I am home at 221B Baker Street and have had twenty-four hours to decompress. 

I know my goodbye was rushed.  I’m sorry. I scarcely had time to type those words.  I cannot explain more. Just know that any abruptness on my part should not be taken personally or imply anything about the nature of the work.  Not this time nor anytime in the future. 

You once asked what I needed, and I replied _you_. That has not changed. That need has only grown. I have read all your emails.  I cannot stop reading them. They are a lifeline to me right now. Thank you for continuing to write them in my absence.  Nothing you have said has bored me at all.  I have laughed and cried and thoroughly savored every word.  What an extraordinary comfort to return home and have them waiting for me!  Should the need arise again for me to be away on assignment, I hope you will write letters like them again. All the morsels of your days have refreshed and renewed my mind faster than I have ever recovered from an assignment.  I’m printing them out for safekeeping. 

I think we may need to hurry along this official nuptial exchange business. My parents’ home is fine.  I will broach the subject with them.

I need to write up my report which I shall hasten to assemble, and then I want to see you, and touch you, and taste you, and hold you, and kiss you, and make mad, ravishing love to you. Wear your jewels, my lovely queen, and come ride your English stallion until the sun breaks London’s horizon.

All my love,

William Sherlock Scott Holmes

P.S. I waved to you from one of the military helicopters as we passed over my parents’ home. Twice.


	58. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular request, here is the narrative follow-up to the last letter so that you can know just what happened. It's never what you think, though.
> 
> Beyond this chapter, you will have to wait for the third BLACKBIRD book.

Molly Hooper knew immediately upon seeing Sherlock after nine days of absence that whatever his assignment for Mycroft had been, it had been very hard on him. Decompressing for twenty-four hours clearly wasn’t enough.  He looked like he needed to sleep for a few days because he looked like he hadn’t slept for nearly the entire assignment.  Maybe he hadn’t.  Those at least, were her first impressions, but when he spoke, he voice was gravely and betrayed his true exhaustion despite the fact that he pulled her into his arms and kissed her sweetly.  All her hopes for flinging herself into his arms with the joy of reunion faded into the reality of what stood before her.  Not only that, he was limping, favoring his right foot.

“What’s wrong with your foot?” she asked.

“Bashed it in the dark.” He shrugged.

“You’re sure no one bashed it for you on the assignment?” she asked.

“Molly.” His tone dipped into a scold.  She wasn’t supposed to ask him anything about the assignment, but she stood her ground.  He finally rolled his eyes and shrugged again with a sigh of resignation. “It happened last night in my own toilet.” He said. “I’m quite capable of bashing my own foot.  I think I’m going to lose a nail.” 

“Let me take a look.” She said.

He started to protest, but now she gave the scolding stare, and he hobbled across the room to his chair and slumped down into the worn leather.  She pulled John’s old chair closer and then tenderly lifted his injured foot into her lap and pulled off his sock.  The middle toe was bruised and slightly swollen, but the nail didn’t seem to have the kind of damage that indicated he would lose it even if it was slightly discolored.

“Do you often stumble into things in your loo?” she asked. 

“Mmm.  Ask John.  He’ll confirm it.  He had to listen to my swearing more than once about it.” Sherlock insisted. 

“Maybe you should turn on the light or have a night light in there at least.”

“When I remodel, I’ll be sure there’s nothing to stumble into.” He insisted.

“You need to soak it.” She said as she gently lowered his foot to the floor.  She knew where he kept his supplies, including Epsom salts, and she found plastic waste bin beneath the kitchen sink and proceeded to fill it with quite warm water and Epsom salts.  She brought it back to him.  “The great detective Sherlock Holmes can’t be seen limping around London.  No signs of weakness allowed.  Foot in now.”

He lifted his foot and gingerly lowered it into the water, hissing loudly as his injured toe went under. He tried not to swear, but the words were on the tip of his tongue. 

She leaned forward a little and laid her hand tenderly on his cheek.  “You haven’t been sleeping.  Did you rush through the assignment just to get home to us?”

“I don’t believe in having an assignment last any longer than it needs to, and in this case Mycroft over-estimated.”

She didn’t believe his statement about Mycroft, but she wasn’t going to press it either.  She knew that he had pushed himself hard, perhaps too hard.  “I think that if I’m supposed to ride you until the sun breaks London’s horizon that you ought to at least be able to enjoy it.” She said.  “I think your last email may have been a bit over-confident.” 

He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her.  “I think you may be right.  I was trying to be poetic.  I’m rubbish at it.”

“No.  It was beautiful.” She said.  “And the imagery was very erotic.”

“Would you sleep next to me tonight, Molly?  Aside from drugging me, I won’t sleep unless I know you’re beside me.”

“Yes, of course.  I planned to spend the night, but I also want you to take something to help you sleep.” Molly said softly. “It’s all right.  You’re home now.  You can relax.  You can sleep as long as you like.  I have some diphenhydramine.  I’ll make you some tea, and in an hour you can be relaxed and ready to sleep.”

“You brought diphenhydramine?”

“Maybe I suspected you weren’t really recovered.  You said it takes you a few days after one of Mycroft’s assignments.”

“What else did you bring?” he asked with a little sparkle in his eye.

“Sildenafil.”

His mouth gaped in shock. “I don’t need that!”

She put her arm around his neck and patted his chest.  “Well, on the off chance that I was going to ride you all night, I needed to make certain that you were _up_ for it all night.”

“Wicked!” he mock glared at her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several packets of condoms.  “This one glows in the dark.  This one is ribbed for my pleasure.  This one has extra lubrication.  This one—“

He cut her short by snatching them from her hands and tossing them over his shoulder. “If I didn’t sense my mother behind this, I might be slightly aroused, but I am actually a bit mortified.”

She took his hand and turned it palm up, then took his pulse. Elevated, and it wasn’t arousal.  “I should take your blood pressure.”

“Brought one of those with you, did you?” he asked. “Playing doctor.  That’s new for us. Shall I roll onto my belly and you can take my temperature?”

“Don’t be a cock.” She said.  She was however, serious about the blood pressure, and she did have a kit with her.  She had him remove his shirt, and she took a blood pressure reading.  “It’s a bit high.  That’s to be expected for someone with so much lack of sleep.  You just sit right there while I make you some tea, and then you are going to bed.”

“I do have a certain high tolerance to drugs, you know.” He said. “I doubt something over the counter will even work on me.”

Thirty minutes later, however, he was having difficulty assembling his thoughts into coherent sentences.  He shuddered now and then as his body tried to shake off the effects of the diphenhydramine.  He gasped on occasion, fighting to stay awake.  “I think I’ll just go lie down on the bed.  Just close my eyes a bit.” He said as he removed his foot from the soak, and he padded out of the living room and into the bedroom.  She followed him, of course, just to make certain he didn’t bash his foot into anything and also to make sure he actually made it.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and then collapsed onto his side with a groan, his head landing in the middle of his down pillows.  He tucked his legs up on the bed.  He wasn’t under the covers.  He wasn’t even undressed. “I just need to observe the backs of my eyelids for a few moments.” He insisted, his voice gravely and barely coherent as he closed his eyes. 

Molly quietly removed her shoes and made herself comfortable on top of the covers beside him.  She wasn’t tired at all, but she spooned her body behind his and wrapped one arm around him while the other hand gently stroked his brow and curls.  He murmured and sighed a few times as his body began to relax.  She was there.  She was beside him.  She was _safe_.  Sleep overcame him like a drowning man falling helplessly into the inky abyss.

He shuddered awake with a gasp only an hour later, and she was still beside him, but she was sitting up in bed reading.  He partially turned to her to verify her presence before groaning and collapsing back into his pillow.

“I’m still here.  I’m not going anywhere.” She said softly, and she patted his hip.  He mumbled something completely incoherent.

An hour later the same thing happened.  She was still reading when she heard his sharp gasp.  It was a gasp of fright, of waking from a nightmare that he was reliving over and over.  Somehow she sensed his nightmare was concerning her.  When he raised his head to check on her, she said gently, “Sherlock, roll onto your other side towards me.”

His head dropped onto his pillow again, and for a moment she thought he had already fallen asleep again, but then he shifted his weight and turned his body towards her.  He looked at her through bleary, half open eyes. “Molly Hooper. Molly Holmes. You won’t have to change the monograms on your towels.  Still will be MH.”

“Brilliant deduction.  Go back to sleep.” She said dryly.

He smiled a little at his own idea and then closed his eyes again, but not before snuggling close and putting an arm around her. She gently stroked his brow again until she was certain he was asleep.

Two hours in, while he was still completely out, she extricated herself from his arm, got up and went into the kitchen to get some water, careful not to make any noise.

A light from the living room caught her attention. His laptop was still open and on. She went over to close it, but what she saw on the screen made her gasp, her heart instantly beginning to race.  It was Sherlock’s assignment report to Mycroft.  She knew she shouldn’t read it.  She knew she should turn away immediately or simply shut the lid and shut it down, but it was too late.  She had seen it, at least part of it.  She looked over her shoulder towards the bedroom.  He was still asleep. She knew it would be a breach of trust for her to actually read it, and yet it was like forbidden fruit, calling her name, pulling her closer with every moment she thought about it.  She knew there would be consequences if she read it, even if Sherlock never found out, although somehow he always found out everything.  Their relationship would suffer a bit.  There might even be consequences from Mycroft.  Whatever Sherlock was doing for Mycroft was undoubtedly top secret and classified.  If the case did revolve around protecting her, knowing that would only increase her anxiety.  If the case had nothing at all to do with her, then she would have read something she truly had no business reading.  Would she know what she needed if she only read the first paragraph?

Ten minutes later she returned to bed, her heart pounding.  He hadn’t moved, at least not that she could discern.  She undressed quietly and then slipped beneath the sheets but turned away from him.  She could not sleep.

He awoke two hours later because of a need to urinate, and he quietly got out of bed.  He didn’t know then that she was still awake, but when he returned to bed, he was completely naked, having shed his clothing in the bathroom.  He folded back the covers and got into bed, then moved up close to Molly.  “Molly.” He said quietly.  He could tell by her breathing that she wasn’t asleep. “Molly, I distinctly remember leaving my laptop open and it’s now closed.  Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“I closed it when I got up to get some water.” She said.

“Why would you feel the need to close it?  I leave it open all the time.  Were you trying to cover up the fact that you were reading something there?” he asked. “Molly, answer me.” He put his arm around her.  “Molly.” His voice dropped slightly and was sterner.

“I read some.  Not all of it.  I didn’t understand some of it, so I stopped after a few pages.  The case wasn’t about me, so I didn’t care anymore.”  She turned to him, tears in her eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“That wasn’t the case I was just on.” He said.  “That was already turned into Mycroft, and it’s in a locked file anyhow.  I would never leave that open on my computer.”

“But it was a case.” She said.  “I shouldn’t have looked at all.”

“It’s part of my autobiography.  That’s all.  I’m just working on it.”

“Oh.” She said quietly. Somehow that didn’t quite make her feel better.  She still felt in her heart that she had betrayed his trust, and she felt terribly guilty for it.

“But you’re right.  You shouldn’t have looked.”  He said simply.  “Especially when you thought it was something you weren’t supposed to see.  So we have a little problem, don’t we?”

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock.  Really I am.”

“I have to be able to trust the woman I am about to marry.  I can’t worry that you might try to steal a glance at my confidential work or even try to break my password although that would be impossible.”

“It was a lapse in judgment.  It won’t happen again.  I promise.” She insisted.

“We had an interesting half discussion in our letters on how we would discipline our children.  What would you recommend if our child did something like this?  Would you accept the apology as enough and send them on their merry way or possibly add something to drive the point home that the behavior was unacceptable and must not be repeated?” he asked quite calmly.

 She hitched her breath slightly. “Remove privileges, grounding.” She said.

He gave it split second of consideration. “Those couldn’t really apply effectively to you though, could they? The way I look at is this: when the child is of a certain age of reason, they will be given a choice of either grounding or a session with the stinger and just have it all over and done with, although should the infraction warrant it, I may choose both.  However, a few good swats on the bare gluteus maximus with the stinger, and it’s over. I know corporal punishment isn’t terribly in fashion these days, but when done properly, it’s highly effective in deterring unwanted behaviors.”

She wasn’t certain what she should say at the point because she wasn’t certain what he was implying, but she wasn’t entirely sure she was willing to commit to what he was suggesting…if he was in fact suggesting it.

“Sherlock—“ she started.

"But of course, I wasn't implying that for you." he said. "We are equal in our relationship, and I told you in the letters that I'm not into the dominant-subordinate relationship.  You said you were sorry, and I forgive you, and that's all that is needed. In the future, should I ever leave a confidential file available on my computer, feel free to read it.  It'll be my own fault for leaving it there."

She stroked his cheek gently and smiled to him.

"And thank you, by the way, for letting me know my writing was unintelligible.  Mycroft has never complained."

"Your autobiography isn't for Mycroft.  It's for the general public.  I could be your editor if you'd like." 

"That's not what I'd like at the moment."

He rolled her onto her back and kissed her deeply as his hips pressed into her in one firm, but slow drive.  She shuddered and broke the kiss with a groan as he reached her inner limit and applied deep pressure. As he began slow, deep thrusts, he cradled her head in his hands and said, “You are my love.  You are my life.  I will protect you with my life.  I will protect our future children with my life.  I will bring the world to its crushed knees to protect you.  Never doubt my love.  Never.  Never doubt that I will always forgive you, that I will always forgive our children.  Always remember that you are my queen.” 

She knew then without a doubt that his recent assignment for Mycroft had been to put down a threat against her.  Not just any threat.  It likely came from some old faction of Moriarty's network that occasionally flared to life.

Sherlock slept for nine hours straight although Molly got up only four hours later.  She had to be at work by 10:00 and was long gone.  When he finally did rouse, he stumbled out of the bedroom with a slight diphenhydramine hangover.  His mouth was cotton dry, and he could barely keep his eyes open, but his eyes did open when he saw his computer was open to the same document as the night before.  He half smiled at Molly’s cleverness.  She _did_ know his password, the little minx.  Then again, maybe _WilliamSherlockScottHolmes1977_ wasn’t entirely clever.

He made himself some coffee and then picked up his cell phone and rang his parents.  “Hello Mummy.  I’m just ringing to ask you how you’d feel about Molly and I getting married at the house.”

He listened to her response, and then he smiled a genuine smile of delight.

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following this book is the 4th in the series, THE BLACKBIRD AND THE ENCAMPMENT OF ANGELS. It is a work in progress, so please subscribe so that you can get updates.


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